Reepicheep's Path of Knighthood
by LstC3ltacorn
Summary: Of Reepicheep the knight and Pattertwig his squire. Reep's tale based after the Golden Age and Before Prince Caspian.
1. 1 The Secret Oath

**Reepicheep' s Path of Knighthood by Lstc3ltacorn**

**Disclaimer Reepicheep, Pattertwig, Aslan and Narnia itself are all the ideas of C.S. Lewis and I dont claim them as my own and I haven't and dont intend to ever make any profit from this fanfiction story. Also there are no religoius messages implied intentionally by any of the tales in this written piece, it is purely written for the adventurous and mythical elements of Narnia that has inspired me to write this...**

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**The Secret Oath**

In Narnia, where two kings and two queens of Adam and Eve's descent once ruled, in the country where no paw prints of the lion has been bestowed upon the earth for centuries, its people are left forsaken and rulerless.

Many years have passed with the coming and going of the seasons, silent of the voice of royalty and stale of the breath of the lion, the land remains home to the talking beasts who have lived there since that day Aslan sang his song of creation.

The Names of the Pevensie family, the last kings and queens, and the name of Aslan, are not forgotten but have been cast to the winds of time and exist only in legends and stories that are told by a handful of creatures about the fireplace to young beasts whose minds are filled with dreams.

As the Narnians prosper, living life as they see fit, they all have present concerns of their own as they go about their daily errands, both humble and extravagant.

This story begins with Reepicheep, a mouse whose tale I'd tell for with this small creature's journey the fate that betides Narnia seemingly takes root and flourishes into the telling of many creatures' stories and that of Narnia itself, each creatures's story like any river of Anvard or Narnia flowing all the same to meet one vastness of the Eastern Sea, where all other rivers flow into one ocean.

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Once upon a summer day, the young mouse stood at the door of his home to breathe the cool air of morning's awakening, it had a tang of salt from the breeze that eased its way idly from the eastern ocean. The tranquil expanse of grass and wildflowers before him was covered in a blanket of morning dew. As he looked to the distant tree line at the edge of the tumbling valley of hillocks and slopes, he murmured words inaudible, but clear as the new day, they were spoken within his mind;

'My sword handpaw shall be justice;

My other handpaw shall be noble and kind

When now the throne is empty;

I, a mouse, shall rise a Knight!

To Aslan creator of Narnia,

I do swear fealty 'til I go beyond the eastern seas,

Where water grows ever so sweet.'

In the midst of his meditation on these words the memory of one winter night unfurled, foremost in his mosaic of thoughts.

_The nymphs and dryads slept soundly in the dense wood behind him as he wandered into a grove where the trees where sparse and scattered. There he beheld a lion bathing in the pallid moonlight who rose on four paws at the sight of him. He felt no fear or any sense of danger as the golden-white lion approached him and spoke. There was not doubt in the mouse's mind that Aslan, the great lion of the old legends was now before him with an air about him both imperious and benevolent._

_"Hello Reepicheep. Do not be afraid, I'm not here to lurk in the darkness like a hungry beast. You know my name as well as any Narnian, but knowing and believing are as different as night and day." As Aslan finished speaking, Reepicheep struggled from his gaze of astonishment and gave a hasty bow._

_"I'd never think that of you great lion! I'm overjoyed that I live to see the day of your return!" Reepicheep said, now bursting with joy. "Oh! How happy everyone will be to see you once more! Are you going to claim the throne in Cair Parivel?" Aslan's face fell sullenly,_

_"You know well dear mouse that cannot be. Only a Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve can sit in the throne to rule Narnia. Such a time will come again, but not for a while yet. Now listen Reepicheep. You mustn't tell anyone of our meeting, keep your memories of this night among the dearest secrets in your heart." The urgency in Aslan's voice, so apparent to Reepicheep, allowed no leeway for the mouse to express his curiosity and was obliged to acknowledge his demand with another bow._

_"I regret to tell you Aslan, many Narnians think that you are the invention of some storyteller to amuse children in tales and in their dreams. I'm saddened to know that will not change unless you stand before them." said Reepicheep despairingly. But Aslan gave an obscure expression before speaking again._

_"Once there was a lion who lay upon the Stone Table. His life was drawn from him with a stone dagger at the hands of a white witch, in place of a Son of Adam. She gloated at his death in her sheer ignorance of the Deep Magic. But she bound him with cords of evil enchantment, preventing the lion to escape the frigid waters of death. Then, before the weeping eyes of two Daughters of Eve, a family of scurrying mice, who were never gifted with clever minds of Narnian creatures, came and cut the bonds that bound the lion, thus unleashing his fury upon the evil army of the white witch, and lay her lifeless on the battlefield."_

_"Yes Aslan I know this story well. And then came the Golden Age of Narnia!" said Reepicheep, recovering from the reverie that Aslan's voice induced while telling the tale._

_The slightest hint of a smile appeared on the great lion's face. "Then you know, Reepicheep, that I was that lion. From that day I've thought greatly of the mice of Narnia, and regret not having them in my service at an earlier time. I have learned from that mistake, dear mouse. Now kneel Reepicheep, and repeat these words..."_

_Without question, Reepicheep knelt before Asaln and was knighted with only the stars as witness. He repeated after Aslan his oath of fealty and received strength and wisdom from the breath of the lion. Aslan then stressed the importance of keeping the meeting a secret, but he should still address himself with his new title of Sir. Reepicheep. They departed from the moonlit grove._

With his fill of the dew-blessed air, Reepicheep went back into his home. He followed the tunnel that dived deep into the soil away from the grasp of cruel weather in the cold seasons. A fertile aroma of earth welcomed Reepicheep to his living quarters. A lonely dining table placed against the wall had his breakfast of waiting for him. Berries, shortbread and fennel tea he had prepared earlier before his appetite concerned him much. A stone fireplace was opposite the table where dying gleeds held life in them from the previous night. A typical home for many mice of his kind, but upon the wall above his downy bed of moss and heather, hung a silver steel shield with the symbol of a red lion bearing its claws. Also his sheathed rapier sword hung by its leather straps.

Reepicheep finished his breakfast with relish, "I will have to thank Pattertwig! He certainly has a knack for berry picking. It was generous of him giving me share." he spoke to himself with delight. "Although these nuts are as bland as bog sods! And somebeast has nibbled the half of them!."

When he finished eating, he slung his shield upon his back and strapped on his sword at his hip, the belt fitted perfectly. Then he stood before a mirror on the wall and fitted a red feather snugly behind his ear. Satisfied with his appearance he swaggered back up the tunnel to greet the world and pursue suitable opportunity to test his worthiness of knighthood.

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	2. 2 Of Pattertwig the Squire

_**Of Pattertwig the Squire**_

Aravir, the morning star, faded in farewell low in the eastern sky. The drowsy sun peeked between the trees as morning dawned with youthful radiance. The Evergreens intermingled with the beeches, ashes and the wise old oaks, awakening from peaceful slumber to the nattering warble of the merry early birds.

In a dusky hollow of a wizened oaken trunk, awoke the red squirrel Pattertwig. A sore sight it was for him; the roomy corner for his tree house where his abundant stash of nuts should be had none at all! But there was nothing else for it. With a shake of the head and spring in his step he left the gloom of sleep among his aromatic bed of leaves and scampered to the forest floor. He was unusually sluggish, burdened by his bloated belly as he headed for Rushafell Stream (known to some as the Rush River).

"Oh nutless-shells and knotted-furs!" he groaned hugging his gut as he toddled on. "My poor old tummy! It's always my luck, everything it is always just spiffy for Pattertwig!"

It did not occur to Pattertwig that the indulgent feast of berries the night before may be something to do with his bellyache.

The Rushafell Stream ran cool and clear. The delicate water caressed the riverbank and the current-worn stones. Infrequent rays pierced through the verdant canopy above and adorned the water face with a sheet of shimmering light. Pattertwig came to the riverbank and took hardy draughts of the milky smooth water. He was particularly thirsty and the morning fresh water soothed his grumbling stomach, but so occupied he was with drinking that he forgot to pause for breath. A sharp chill bit his throat and he choked on his last gulp of water, spluttering and gasping for air.

"Easy on!" came a voice from across the way. "The Rushafell pavenders won't be happy if you drink all the water!"

With a flinch, Pattertwig spied a small bear casting him a curious glance. Being a squirrel, his instinctive thought at the sight of the bear was not sit around until he found himself between a pair of jaws. Before the bear could blink twice, the red squirrel had made a shot for the highest branch of the nearest tree. Pattertwig was now perched on a branch that overhung the stream, a comfortable spot to converse with the staring, black-coated bear cub.

"I'm sorry Miss Squirrel, I didn't mean to scare you." said the black bear gazing up at Pattertwig from across the stream.

"I beg your pardon Mr. Bear! My name is Pattertwig, and I am most certainly not a 'Miss Squirrel' as you would say I am!" he spoke bravely from the safety of the high branch. The bear rummaged through his mind for words that would not further upset the startled squirrel.

"Oh – Mr. Pattertwig," he started "How fast you do climb!" The bear now waded across the water casually, with only his head and back emerging from the surface. Pattertwig's eyes were fixed on him as he arrived on the bank below him, nibbling his paws anxiously.

"I've never seen a redder squirrel!" the bear murmured to himself, immensely intrigued. He sat now under the tree straining his head up at Pattertwig. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Pattertwig. My name is Bonfre. Today is my birthday!"

"Well, happy birthday Bonfre." said Pattertwig warily, "But would you be a kind bear and be on your way? Nuts don't gather themselves you know! I want to preen my fur and wash in the water and I can't very well do it with you…" Pattertwig trailed off as he observed the bear approach the base of the tree, then wrap his densely furry arms around the tree trunk, paying no notice to what he was saying.

"What are you doing Bonfre?" Pattertwig asked uneasily.

"Hold on Mr. Pattertwig, I will be up in a second. Just you wait!" said Bonfre. Pattertwig gave a humorous gasp and watched Bonfre doubtfully. Bonfre clamped his claws into the bark of the tree with a steel grip, then surged himself upwards with his powerful forelegs. To Pattertwig's disbelief he was half way up the tree trunk. His heart leapt in his throat and triggered his whole body with rigid fright. Like a wound up spring he launched himself off his perch to lower branches, landing then jumping again faster than the nimblest of cats, eventually finding the mossy ground. He rolled across the forest floor like a fey wood sprite, passing by on-looking foxgloves, liberty caps and snowbells and over the cluttered carpet of forest litter. With rapid momentum he bolted up another tree swifter than a sky bound robin and settled between two arms of the tree, his chest heaving.

"What a bothersome bear! Since when do bears climb trees?" he thought to himself peeping around the branch. His thoughts were broken by a ruckus above him. Quarrelsome voices exchanging insults and exclamations muddled with croaks and curses.

"…five bothersome weeks...like a bunch of pretty wagtails!" croaked one harsh voice.

"You? You sat like a plump little pigeon while we collected…" another yowled.

"Pipe down you flocking crowd of coots!" broke in yet another.

"…the bumpy sweet blue berries, the juicy red shiny ones, the little round scrumptious ones- oh! And the prickly sour bubbly ones and all! Gone! Stolen by the little red fiend!"

"We'll get'em! He's sure to be around this cosy little wood someplace..."

Pattertwig felt sick. The voices did not sound friendly at all, filled with cruel rage, they chilled his soft heart. It occurred to him that he was the only creature with a red coat about these parts as far as dozen thrusts of a wind-filled wing would reach. He remembered something about eating alot of berries the night before, but could not quite recall where he got them. His breathing was frantic now, still shaken by the last ordeal. He closed his eyes and wished to be in his comfy tree hollow; home, where there was nobody there to be angry at him, or chase him out of the tree.

"What's this? There's someone down there!" said the first angry voice.

"- …not allowed in our tree!" squaked the second.

Before Pattertwig knew it he was on the run again. Like a frightened deer he leapt and bound, over and under fallen logs and sleeping rocks. Between the towering pillars that stood everywhere about him. With a glance behind him, to his misfortune, he saw a host of black feathered birds. There was easily an even two dozen, all crying a chorus of fierce curses and croaks. The air-swift cloud of feathered pursuers stormed after Pattertwig like a raging tempest.

"Oh cheerless world!" sobbed Pattertwig. "- where trees mean strife for squirrels, and sweet berries summon angry birds!"

The forest gave way to an open field under the gaping sky. Not even four squirrel strides did Pattertwig fly till he was in the grasp of the vengeful birds.

"Pattertwig, furry-twig, see him run-away!

His belly full of Raven's feast, he cannot run all day!

Pattery-twig, dangly-twig now hanging from the sky,

We'll take him to the Mountains for hungry Giant's pie!

Or East to the sea-serpent, where it'll munch on squirrel's bones!

I say down to the bone-break ground where we'll laugh at him explode!"

The Ravens forgot their rage as fast as yesterday's breakfast with their wicked song. They were now as giddy as a swarm of frolicking butterflies, enjoying their game of 'pass-the-squirrel' with poor Pattertwig. It wasn't much fun at all for him, his eyes glued shut with fear for his life, and he remembered nothing of the following happenings that would decide his fate. The ravens got clumsy with their game and bore Pattertwig but a tree height off the ground; such fun they were having!

"Peck his ears and scratch his fur,

To and fro with the thieving cur!

Scrape-a-twig, throw-a-twig, hear the rascal scream!

And -"

The Ravens' antics came to an abrupt end. One of the jolly birds was struck square on the beak with an airborne rock.

"Unhand that squirrel wing-rats!" piped a voice from below. The Ravens all discovered the mouse, none other than Reepicheep himself, wielding sword and shield.

"Get stuffed little squeaker!" one jeered at him.

"Hah! - Yeah, get stuffed Nibbles! This squirrel has mouthed more nuts than he can chew!" crowed another. _Whiz! Zoom! Thud! _Yet again the throwing arm of Reepicheep felled another blackbird from the sky.

"Since when do folk of Ravenscaur fly out to do work of the White Witch? Old Raven shall answer to my blade if ever he issued such orders! If you find twenty wing-rats against one red squirrel fair odds, with the tiny brains you do have, perhaps a mouse in the squirrels stead will send you cowards to lay eggs in a chicken coop." hollered Reepicheep, humouring himself with his last remark.

"Well if I didn't know better, I'd say that mouse just insulted us!" squawked one raven.

"You really are a puffin-head! Mice don't insult birds; they run and cower just like scaredy-squirrels!" croaked another.

"Not this one! He's a –"'_whizz__! Zoom!' _The raven manoeuvred with a jolt of his wings to dodge the third missile, loosing grip of the petrified Pattertwig. Thanks to Reepicheep's well timed shot, his fall was relatively short and with a bit of luck he fell on a bed of ferns at the edge of the wood and emerged unscathed. But all the same, he was very shook up. That was the last straw for the ravens. Reepicheep had spoiled their newly invented game, insulted their intelligence and left two of them with bruised beaks.

"Have at'em lads!" cried one raven, followed by an outbreak of harsh squawks and croaks from the multitude of diving birds. Reepicheep stood now, one mouse against twenty enraged ravens, playing with the grip of his sword and the weight of his shield, visualising the fight to come. His rapier sword will be swift and sure like a stinging wasp. He will adjust his balance to the weight of his shield. The ravens are overconfident and driven by anger, they will attack with mindless strength, careless blows easy enough for the brave mouse to evade parry and repay them with the tip of the blade and ridge of his shield.

Pattertwig looked on in terror from his cover of wispy leaves. He could not bear to look at his mouse friend torn apart by the wicked birds. He caught glimpses of the battle unfolding between his paws covering his eyes, cringing at any elevated noise or flurry of activity. On the large, it was a haze of black feathers flying, torn from the flesh of the birds by the bite of steel. The whinging of pain stricken blackbirds rang constantly in Pattertwig's ears, with the spontaneous clank of metal as one bird's head would meet the face of Reepicheep's shield or a slashing of flesh would be heard as the Knight of Aslan sank his blade deep.

Reepicheep cleaned his blade and gave one sore-winged raven a last kick to the rear tail feathers before it limbed off. Reepicheep then approached Pattertwig the squirrel.

"Hurray Pattertwig! I want to thank you for those berries you gave me. And not a moment too soon it would seem." laughed Reepicheep. Pattertwig could have hugged the noble mouse there and then but restrained himself for he had great respect for him now and at the same time was immensely grateful for him saving his life. In a fit of excitement the red squirrel ran here and there, and in circles about the noble mouse babbling his own string of praises to Reepicheep. It was a good quarter of an hour before he began to talk plainly again, and to Reepicheep's wonderment he seemed to have conjured an acorn out of thin air and wasted no time going about nibbling at it. He was about to ask him about it but before he could put his words together Pattertwig asked,

"Where are we going now Sir. Reep? I should like to know! Really I should! Where ever shall we go next I do wonder? Well? Let's get going then! Where are we to go next great swordsmouse in all the reach of Rushafell?" For a moment Reepicheep was at a loss for words. But he seen no harm in Pattertwig accompanying him for a while, for it was a long walk to the site of the Stone Table. Reepicheep had found himself thinking about that place too often for a fanciful memory, he was meant to go there and look once more upon the cracked table in his mind.

About three day's journey it was at a casual pace and with one significant stop on the way. They became acquainted with two dwarf brothers at an inn called the Undertree Inn, and if you are wondering where that name came from, the inn was dug into the earth by the dwarves under a great oak tree. And it just so happened that their names where Brimblebeard and Drumbatuff Undertree. Anyhow, when they learned of Reepicheep's noble statue, and of Pattertwig's fond adoration of Reepicheep, they showed young Pattertwig a thing of two about the care and maintenance of weapons and armour and many essentials skills of one who might wish to assist a knight on his adventures. Indeed it wasn't much of a rest for the red squirrel, but he proved quite proficient in such tasks. He enjoyed it almost as much as cracking nuts and refurbishing his squirrel hole for Winter. Reepicheep recognised his skills and enlisted him as his squire, to bear his shield and perhaps even their own banner if Aslan wills it! As you can imagine, Pattertwig was most delighted to hear this and from then on wore a green feather behind his right ear much like Reepicheep's red one that he wore in the same manner.


	3. 3 The Hospitable Foxmaiden

_**The Hospitable Foxmaiden**_

So it was that Reepicheep and Pattertwig came into sight of the clearing of where the Stone Table was to be; all shadows vanquished at the height of noon. As far as he could see, a spread of tents and pavilions were all about, various in size as they were in colour. It seemed to Pattertwig that all the creatures in Narnia had gathered here as he witnessed them all bustling about and his head was filled with their chattering and shouts and laughter as he followed Reepicheep deeper into the crowd of bodies and tents.

"Sir Reep! What is this happening? We shall be flattened among these oversized thunder-foots!" he piped, overtaking Reepicheep in a panic.

"Just mind your own tail Pattertwig, how else will we get over yonder where the Stone Table should rightly be. You'll be fine, you have my word." said Reepicheep giving Pattertwig a comforting touch on the shoulder and as he strode on.

You would understand well the distress of Pattertwig if you seen this happening from his point of view. First he felt vulnerable realising that the nearest tree was ten times as far from him than he could ever throw a chestnut, and he could truthfully boast among squirrels that he was among the best at that game. He was baffled though by the extravagant colours all about him and more so by sounds he heard; the noble speech of the centaur people, the comparatively crude laughter of the beak-nosed dwarves, the whoosh of a passing dryad through the camp and the art of the fauns most of all as they played their woodwind and stringed tools of music. It was not at all to his liking, he much preferred his riverside forest by the Rushafell. At least there his biggest worry was overly adventurous bears who might find his stash of nuts. Two times too often, the footfall of a giant came a bit too close for a squirrel's comfort, the thought of being in the wrong place at the wrong time racked his nerves.

Reepicheep remained quite impassive during it all but took notice of things of practical interest to him. At the entrance of some pavilions there was left broad shields with various emblems worked upon them, long reaching spears and lances all colourfully painted or embellished with elegant feathers, gems and standard flags.

"Look to those little ones before they get trampled…" came a voice from the opposite side of a green striped pavilion. The two companions stopped alerted, then came a '_thud-thud-thud'_ as the ground shook. For a moment they were overshadowed then scooped up high by the great hand of a giant. Reepicheep ripped his sword from the sheath in a challenge to the massive looming face that set it's eyes upon them.

"Speak giant if you wish to keep your fingers! What is the meaning of this unjust hindrance?" Reepicheep demanded. The giant's eyes responded by opening wider and blinking as one would with astonishment.

"You tinys will get hurt like little flies down there!" boomed the giant's voice. "Gormatunk will bring you tinys to the Tiny Camp with your little friends."

Reepicheep was satisfied that they were in no intended danger in the palm of Gormatunk, although he was very uneasy and more so was Pattertwig. He was overcome by fright, and scurried along Gormatunk's arm to his shoulder. The giant went about trying to gasp the squirrel with his other hand in a clumsy fashion, which only set the frightened squirrel into a worse panic. Pattertwig dived under the giant's tunic and swam about under his clothes. Gormatunk broke into a thundering chuckle and his hands flailed about him trying to catch the squirrel. Reepicheep was flung from the giant's hand and, luckily, his fall was cushioned by the roof of a pavilion and he slid down it to the ground. With some effort he found his balance and narrowed his vision to see the giant sitting on top of a flattened pavilion still bellowing with laughter, searching for the squirrel. Several dwarves lay flat on their faces after diving out of the way of the giant and others stood by very annoyed at the destruction of their tent.

"Pattertwig!" Reepicheep shouted in fear for his squire's life. As he executed a short sprint to search amidst frenzy of disorder, he stopped abruptly at the sight of a red-furred creature a safe distance away from the chuckling Gormatunk as he fumbled about the camp site in a fit of laughter. Slowing his pace, he came beside him to find that it was indeed Pattertwig standing as healthy as ever, nibbling on a pine cone with his eyes fixed on the giant as if he was watching a comical pantomime.

"I say Sir! That fellow is definitely one acorn short of a nutshell!" said the squirrel. Reepicheep's jaw dropped to see him unharmed, and as happy as a bear with a brim-full honey pot. And as naturally as it should make one curious he asked,

"Where'd you get that pine cone?" Pattertwig repaid him a sideway glace, then answered in a courteous manner,

"Don't you know Sir Reep? Pinecones come from trees! Escaping the grasp of a giant tends to make me peckish you know, and this particular fittle gives your choppers a good cleanin' if you're careful not to get bits stuck between..."

"Make haste Pattertwig!" interrupted Reepicheep departing from where they stood. "We can talk about pinecones 'til the leaves turn brown and fall when we find the Stone Table!"

So, on they went until they came to a part of the camp where the tents where considerably smaller, but much more to the suiting of creatures of their own statue. There were also hastily constructed wooden huts and mounds of earth; typical dwellings for the forest creatures. Campfires were scattered about for creatures to sleep by under the sky. It was just as crowded as the previous camp, but it was comforting to see that the occupants were the familiar creatures of the forest that they were used to. Seeing their lost expressions, a foxmaiden greeted them from the doorway of an earthy structure with a chimney-spout on top releasing steady motes of smoke.

"Hello sirs. Be you weary from travelling, then you'd do well to stay a while here. We have warm beds and the most belly warming food in all the Western Wood." spoke the fox in acquaintance.

"The Western Wood! That is a long way..." began Pattertwig, only to be silenced by Reepicheep with a quick glance raising his handpaw before addressing the foxmaiden himself.

"Thank you kind damsel, but we've come only to lay eyes on the Stone Table and don't plan to stay longer than is necessary, especially at a strange occasion such as this." The fox seemed lost for words, then looked at them humorously.

"You be pullin' my leg! Haha!" said the fox. "I am no damsel; I'm likely to be older than your own mothers. And of course! I'm sure if you ask politely, the Stewards of Narnia will join you in a tea party right at the Stone Table! Yes! Haha! And Aslan will come from the past to serve you all tea and crumpets and wear a maid's apron!"

"You go too far with you jests fox!" yelled Sir Reepicheep grabbing the hilt of his sword unintentionally, "Why shouldn't I go to the Stone Table, and who are these Stewards of Narnia you speak of?" The fox only noticed the sincerity of Sir Reepicheep after rubbing the tears of laughter from her eyes. She suppressed her cavorting giggles and put on a solemn face careful not to exacerbate the mouse's anger.

"Bly-me you're not jokin'! Where'd you young bounders be from eh? Far away I'd bet my bushy tail! Either that or you both have cotton-stuffed ears not to know the goings-on here. By all means, stay here 'til you are learned of the events at hand for 'tis no time or place to be wandering Narnia in ignorance. I'd hate to see harm come to ye if it was within my power to help it."

"Of that, myself and my squire Pattertwig would be most thankful gentle foxmaiden." replied Reepicheep. "I am Sir Reepicheep, and I'd be grateful to know your name so I may repay you for your kindness."

"A Knight!" gasped the fox. "By the flame of the Lantern-tree! This is a treat! Come in! come in!" The fox stood by the door with a welcoming gesture to bid them entry keenly, then followed behind Pattertwig. They were greeted with unusual smells the made their mouths water. Sweet smells, richer than that of flowers and grass and warmer than the smell of summer berries. They came to a dim, flame-lit room with petite holes on the large earthy roof-dome from which sunbeams leaked through and streaked across the width of the room. Wood-grained tables and chairs filled the floor where a few odd looking characters made themselves busy with a meal. There was, what they guessed, a kitchen area where a great fire burned beneath the chimney, and some beds were scattered randomly hugging close to the walls of the airy room. "My name is Mamma Fox, and this is my humble tavern. Pappa Fox is my husband; he has been off many winters now doing ruddy-furs-knows-what, and the cubblings are sleeping, thank the running rivergods!"

"Cubblings?" asked Reepicheep.

"What's that smell?" Pattertwig inquired at the same time.

"Cubblings, yes. We have five of them! The most honey-hyped younglings yer ever likely to meet! Redwusker, Muzzlesnuffer and Diddlepaw are the tods and my precious foxmaids are Lilyvix and Puffletail." she said touching her chest tenderly with thoughts of adoration. "A lively lot they are! They'll turn m' fur grey if they don't sprout up soon! Find a seat, and I'll show you, my dear squirrel laddie, what the smell is." Mamma fox scuttled to the kitchen area while the two travellers claimed a table at the far end of the room. Pattertwig gave a sigh of relief as he laid Reepicheep's shield on the table with a _'clunk.'_

"Finally! My stomach is talking to me! In fact, it's sing's;

_Oh cruel Pattertwig! I'm alone on my owny-own!_

_Where's my friends I once knew so well?_

_Eat something before all's your skinny boney-bones!_

_Vittles all brown, some green, all shiny,_

_Up high upon tree-branch boughs,_

_Send them past your gob to find me!_

_Yummy yum! Listen to meh tummy tum!_

_Grumbly mumbling! Rumbly tummy!_

_Mumbly achey tum-tum!"_

Just as Reepicheep's patience was worn to the tip of its thread by the song, he was interrupted and stopped singing. Five small fox cubs approached them fumbling between legs of tables and chairs, in hysterics at Pattertwig's silly song. They were all the same size, but one of the foxes' fur was as white as snow and seemed more composed than the rest.

"'ers 'a red sqer'ul! Keep up'r sing'n! Rumbly mumbly song!" whined the red little foxmaiden Puffletail.

'Luk'rt 'is fufflefey tail!" Muzzlesnuffer cheered, exploring Pattertwig's tail and testing it with his paws as if it were a big pillow for him to sleep on. He was caught completely off guard and felt extremely awkward around the fox cubs. He was very wary of foxes, he heard them sulking about at night time when he was in his tree-home, and the unpleasant things they spoke of gave him a bad opinion of them. Redwusker clambered onto the tabletop in front of Reepicheep.

"Hi 'er Mist'r Mouse. Why'r ye wer'n 'at der big wred fe'der atop yer head fer?" Reepicheep was not used to such childish caper, and was slightly insulted before reminding himself that they where only cubs.

"A big bur'de giv'em it. See thur on atop sqer'el's head a green'on! Wha'durs 'ur name Mister Red Sqer'l?" asked Diddlepaw gawking up at Pattertwig curiously. Pattertwig, courteously enough, but hesitantly told them.

"Pat'ntwug…pittert'g- he he!" giggled Puffletail. They all jibed and laughed as they listened to each other's flawed version of Pattertwig's name, not amusing Pattertwig in the slightest. But just then, to their relief, came Mamma Fox from the kitchen area carrying a huge round platter.

"Get youz away on and give our guests some peace!" she told them, shooing them away. So the five of them sauntered off to wherever they were beforehand with the white-furred cub Lilyvix tailing behind the boisterous four, who were still futilely attempting to say Pattertwig's name. The foxmaiden placed the silver- sheen platter before them and the sight they beheld gave their hearts wings of delight. Fresh-baked preserves, scones, breads, cheeses! Fittles fit for a king! Gems from the treasure-ovens of the Western Wood! Pattertwig's senses were ignited with excitement. Reepicheep was the same, their minds totally occupied with the food in front of them. They both heard of such foods, but never in their life had they dreamed of eating it themselves. They were overcome by the unfamiliar tastes and smells as their tastebuds urged their handpaws to each morsel and raised it to their muzzle. Before they managed to swallow their first mouthful, a tankard of ale was planted in front of them and without a testing sip, they washed their food down with one long draught. Their meal was over as fast as it had begun and Mamma Fox stood by them the whole time with a gratified grin on her face, for their lack of conversation was sweeter to her ears than any compliment they could have made.

"Finished? Good lads!" she scurried off with the tableware. The mouse and the squirrel cast each other an acknowledging glance and gave a long sigh as if to relieve their engorged stomachs.

"I do say Sir! If that wasn't the best food you've ever eaten, then I'm a granma-giant's pin cushion!" said Pattertwig to Reepicheep.

"Indeed it was a fair tasting meal. Surely there is no chef more talented in all of Narnia! I wish you could cook like that Pattertwig. But then perhaps not, then I'd be the stoutest Knight of them all." Reepicheep said with a titter.

"Sir Reepicheep the Stout! It sounds fine to me. And his humble squire Pattertwig who helped him every step of the way to earn his noble, wide stature!" cracked Pattertwig with a marvelling smile at the possibility. Reepicheep's smile waned, missing the joke.

"_Fine_ you say? I would be a laughing stock; the shame would be unbearable! How, by Aslan's Mane, does that seem fine to you?" exclaimed Sir Reepicheep raising to his feet. Pattertwig shrank from the imposing mouse.

"'twas only a joke-"

"One's name is not something to joke about squirrel! Especially a Knight's! You are supposed to be my squire, not my jester. You'd best act like it!" said Reepicheep in the same angry tone. Pattertwig raised to his feet to match the height of Reepicheep. His mood changed swifter than a sea wind, and now their anger was like two opposing torrents.

"You know my name! You'd be best to use it lest you forget it, the drunken mouse that you are!" replied Pattertwig. Mamma Fox returned to the bickering beasts as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and sat beside them both nonchalantly as they stood maintaining a stare of brittle anger likely to snap into a reel of swinging fists.

"Seat yourselves the both o'ye! By jove! Ya have one brew an' you're actin' like two drunken sea-rats. I never seen the like of it!" She said. Of course she was exaggerating being a tavern maid she was likely to be all too familiar with the shenanigans of intoxicated beasts, "Now my laddies, yer bellies are full and the time is right to talk about important matters. Whatever put it into your wee heads to go to the Stone Table is beyond me, but I will tell ye what yer problem is so listen well now. For almost a year now the Stewards of Narnia have been talkin'."

"Aye, milady! Who are the Stewards of Narnia?" interrupted Reepicheep now seated calmly facing Pattertwig.

"If ye'd let me speak sir I'll tell ye! Ah me! Yes, they be the spokemen of all the people of Narnia. They seem to hold council night and day, over the one big question- who is to rule Narnia?"

"So, they are lookin' for a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve?" inquired Pattertwig. He was awarded an approving gaze from Reepicheep. "Don't look so surprised Sir Reep, I know of the old stories as well as you. My ol' mother, Aslan take her East, told me them well. I can recite them off as well as my own name. Shall I?"

"No need, perhaps I'll hold you to your word another time." said Reepicheep with a hint of a jest.

"You shan't be disappointed!" Pattertwig replied proudly. The foxmaiden spoke again,

"Whatever do ye mean? What story books 'av ye been readin'? Anyhow, they are forever arguing about who should take the throne. Many of the people favour Gladebreeze the centaur. She is very wise in her years, and is known to foretell events of the future, although she never seemed keen on the idea of being Queen of Narnia. She lost my vote though when I seen her crying to the stars on winter night about people dying and whatnot, she's lost her mind! But more recently two odd characters turned up proposing to an alternative that didn't involve choosing any Narnian beast. They boasted about their magic and said they could summon a powerful ice queen. Really, I do reckon a hag has cursed the waters with dull-brain dust, have you ever heard such folly?"

"'tis folly indeed!" Reepicheep's fury began to flare again, rising to his feet once more. "How could Aslan allow such a disgrace to befall the land! Does nobody know the old tales? Are they all forgotten? So long as I live no beast will sit in any one of the thrones of Cair Paravel. This is my oath, and only by my death will it be broken! Where are these Stewards of Narnia, ladyfox? I beg you tell me." His outburst attracted a few startled eyes of the silent beasts about the dining area. Mamma Fox dared not question him or stray from the subject. He seemed to summon a golden presence with his imperious words. For the first time the foxmaiden looked at him as a noble creature. He made her feel like a foxcub again, one who can only dream of such warriors who come to rid them of their fantasy-dreamed troubles, except for once, this one became real before her eyes. Clearly the effects of the ale had worn off on him as well. She spoke bluntly,

"They sit at the Stone Table, within the grand pavilion that towers above the rest." Reepicheep beckoned to his squire, who by now was already standing by the tavern entrance bearing Reepicheep's shield and preening his green feather with a quick glance at a wall-mirror.

"We will take up this adventure milady; the Stewards of Narnia will see the foolishness of their ways before the end. Alas, we shall take our leave, and bid you a very fond farewell." proclaimed the mouse.

"Do not leave yet! You won't get to the grant pavilion unchallenged. None may approach the Stewards unless they can prove their worth by sword and chivalry; even then they will demand that you justify your intentions and that they are true. Stay the night I beg you, for you will be freed of your weariness as the morning comes and, for all I know as a humble tavern foxmaiden, your sword shall be keener, yes?" offered the foxmaiden in a desperate tone.

"She's right Pattertwig." said Sir Reepicheep as he pondered her words. "Pray tell me, why you are you not among the Steward's counsellors? I'd say with your help, they'd come to a decision before dawn, for your mind is indeed rich in wisdom."

"Oh joy! You'll stay then? Come sit, tell me one of these old tales and enlighten an old vixen on her history. For shame that an old'n such as myself should 'av to be taught about such things by you young'uns. That will be payment enough for a respite in one of my comfy beds for the night." said the foxmaiden rejoicing.

It was only a couple of hours past noon, so the storytelling went on for hours on end, with many breaks for tea and preserves and another hearty meal in the late hours to make them eager for their bed. Reepicheep and Pattertwig were appalled to know that the foxmaiden knew none of the old tales, and that she being one of the wisest among creatures of the west, they hadn't much hope for the rest of them. They dreaded the thought of the day to follow.

So Mamma Fox learned of all the history of Narnia from the two companions, from when Aslan created Narnia and appointed King Frank and Queen Helen to rule the country, to the end of the Golden Age when the Pevensie family seemingly abandoned their thrones and disappeared from Narnia. Although some of the tales aroused her interest more than others, particularly stories of the Western Wood and thereabouts.

"Beavers Dam eh? Hold on I'll be back in a jiffy." said the foxmaiden, hurrying to the kitchen area. She brought back a thick book that she struggled to carry without wavering while bearing its weight, and set it on the table in front of them. "This is my dearest treasure, 'tis a family heirloom passed down from motherfox to daughterfox for generations. It's unknown who wrote it, but whoever did had the most creative notions of food and was a master at their art of cooking." She flicked through the pages, sifting through ingredient lists, methods descriptions and colourful diagrams. The pages were ancient but in fair condition considering how old they were. They observed inquisitively as Mammafox continued to flick through the pages, many of them stained with grubby paw prints. She stopped at the inside of the back cover where a brief, smudged paragraph read,

_"- ver's collection of recipes. Many are the hours I spent over the steaming pots and pans, much sweat have I shed from the heat of the oven, trying always for the perfect method to produce the tastiest meal for my lovely husband Mr. Bea-_

_-and am very proud to have served the Pevensie Family a meal in my humble home of Beaver's Dam. In the rare case of any other creature who may have such an honour, I've recorded all my meal recipes so that they know how to properly serve a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Ev-"_

"It's the cookbook of Mrs Beaver, surely!" cried Pattertwig with excitement.

"I wonder if Beaver's Dam is still there. Have you ever seen it Mamma Fox?" asked Reepicheep especially intrigued.

"I don't recall ever seeing it. Although I wouldn't know a beaver if I seen one, nor do I know what a dam looks like for that matter! There is a myth that the last of the beavers was hunted down by wolves and made an end to them." she said factually.

"It is an adventure that cannot be left unpursued, but for the present we have more urgent tasks at hand." stated Reepicheep.

After hearing all the tales the mouse and the squirrel had to tell and they went to their beds, Mamma Fox appreciated much more the seriousness of the events that where occurring. She took every word of the tales as the honest and accurate truth, for it seemed to her that the voice of the Knight could not be corrupted by even an ounce of lies or deceit. One poem in particular told by Reepicheep, stole her heart and the thought of any unworthy beast sitting in any of the four the thrones filled her with sorrow.

_"Come hither friends of the Lion,_

_For this tale I shall tell,_

_Of the Son's of Aravir,_

_Lady morn-star you know so well._

_From heavens they descended,_

_At the whim of their Mother Star,_

_Bearing thrones for Sons of Adam_

_And Daughters of Eve from a world beyond Afar._

_'We come to you Great Lion,_

_With gifts for your land-country,_

_We made thrones for Kings and Queens,_

_And ask nothing in return from thee.'_

_'Come hither Sons and Daughters of Earth,' proclaimed the Lion,_

_'This land is for humans to rule,_

_I've sung this land of talking beasts,_

_But the thrones were made not for you!'_

_King Frank sat first in throne,_

_Humble, just and true,_

_Queen Helen sat fair, ruled gentle,_

_And bore children who later a seat in throne they did ensue._

_Upon the back of the Lion,_

_Aslan the one with the Mane,_

_Rode the Sons of Aravir,_

_East to a country from whence Aslan came."_


	4. 4 The Shame of Sir Rosensqueak

_**The Shame of Sir Rosensqueak**_

_Reepicheep drifed in the realms of his slumber-induced dreams. The voice of his nurse hummed a lullaby he knew so well and he found himself amidst a sea of white water-lilies. All hither and yon bloomed with a wealth of radiance that would outshine a desert sun, and the water was rich with a sweetness that invigorated his senses. Over and over the lullaby was sung and Reepicheep would never tire of it for each time he heard it sung by his nurse's voice it seemed though he heard it for the first time, but never would he forget it's words; those of the mothering Dryad who once nurtured him like a sapling of her own, in that time afar in the past. Alas, those words are not for me to tell, for I do not inherit that liberty. But despair not, for it has been written elsewhere, upon the pages of a book written by another crafter of words and can be read by keen eyes as those of you own…_

Reepicheep awoke alerted by ruckus about the field of pavilions and tents outside Mamma Fox's Tavern. He took his leave and ventured out beneath the sky only to meet the morning greetings of Pattertwig.

"Seasons alive! Do all mouses sleep as well as bears? You've slept half the day away!"

Reepicheep rubbed the sleep from his eyes and squinted at Pattertwig.

"You should have woke me! I suppose you've gobbled your breakfast and all? I've no time for that I must go to confront the confounded Stewards."

Pattertwig offered Reepicheep this rapier sword first, but by the time the mouse drowsily reached his forepaw out to grasp it, the blithe red squirrel had strapped the belt about Reepicheep's waist and swung his shield upon his own back and performed a bowing gesture.

"Lead on Sir! To the confounded Stewards we go! We'll have at'em and what not! Speed an' haste, no time to waste and all!" Setting his red feather to a satisfactory position, the mouse set out on his endeavour to the great pavilion where the foxmaiden informed him the Stone Table was, and where the Stewards of Narnia held council.

"You're in a fine fettle this morning! With speed and haste then, follow my lead Pattertwig." he bid courteously to his squire, now well accustomed to the daylight.

On they went through the encampment, looking on inquisitively. The place, at first seemed to be quite tranquil, no beast or sinner was about. The silky materials of the pavilions rippled in a slight breeze and flags and standards fluttered atop of the pitched tents, poles and spears protruding from the ground. But the peace did not last. The two companions came into sight of the great pavilion they were seeking; a pale white tent that peaked above the rest like an ominous mass of rock that ruled a vast, multicoloured mountain range. A palisade wall constructed with menacingly sharp stakes established a secure perimeter around it, with one gate entrance guarded by several solemn looking beasts that stood on their hind legs wielding long spears and clad in bits of steel armour. The pending silence was awakened with a sickening crash; the unmistakable brutish destruction of timber. A congratulatory uproar from beyond the veil of tents heralded the sounds of a tourney victory.

Reepicheep and his squire made swift their footpaws to attend the obscure event that was taking place. They witnessed a massive crowd of beasts as they came to the shore of the ocean- immense encampment as level grassland expanded out in the looming shadow of the great tent. They scampered between the big-beasts that stood on the outer flanks of the crowd; the tree-tall Giants, the bronze-back Centaurs, Minotaurs, Brown Bears and other beasts of impressive physique had a fair view above the heads the smaller Narnians who were all bunched together like grapes, all hustling among each other for a better view.

"Perhaps we can ask one of the thunderfoots to give us a lift up. What say you Sir Reep? O' an' look over yonder, 'tis our friend Gormatunk!" suggested Pattertwig, reluctant to try and mingle among the rough looking crowd. Reepicheep covered the squirrel's mouth before he could shout for Gormatunk's attention. The dull minded giant stood but a few giant-paces away, with his fist in his mouth.

"Fool! Shut up! If you excite that Rock-fer-brains you will get us all trampled. We'll ask some-" exclaimed Sir Reepicheep, but he halted his speech being interrupted. _Thump-a-thump-a-thump-a-thump-a-thump! Crash! _The crowd cheered again and all sprang about with flailing arms, forelegs and wings and paws in excitement.

"Behold, the new Burrowlance Champion, Sir Rosensqueak of Beruna!" heralded a grand booming voice as the cheering elevated. Now so anxious were the two companions that they separated and approached the first big-beast they could find. Reepicheep hailed a hulking Brown Bear, whose muzzle was drenched in honey as were both his paws which were busy groping for remnants of the golden substance stuck to the inside of a clay pot.

"Fair greetings to you good bear! May I be so bold as to request a boon from your kind self? That you abide me to perch upon your shoulder, so I may observe the contest?" spoke the mouse. The Brown Bear gave an acknowledging grunt and crouched low so that Reepicheep could alight upon his shoulder, as he did. The bear stood to his full height above all the small-beasts, this is what Reepicheep saw as his eyes scanned about frantically:

A plain of grass carpeted land was vacant, save for two queer looking figures. Following a horde of questions he rambled at the Brown Bear, he made sense of all that he saw. One was a mouse, attired in a full exoskeleton of dwarven forged steel armour, wielding a shield with an obscure device and the shattered hilt of a wooden spear, sat mounted on a sprightly, black furred buck hare. He was evidently the victor of a joust between the two, as the other beast lay asprawl his mount had fled the tournament grounds. And so Reepicheep concluded, as I'm sure you have as well, that he was the knight the herald spoke of; Sir Rosensqueak of Beruna, The Burrowlance Champion. The mouse also spied beasts upon the parapet of the palisade wall. The Bear pointed out the stout old herald with the booming voice,

"Him there, that is Gurgatong, he's a very short for a giant I'm sure you'll agree." the Brown Bear's voice reclined to a whisper. "Some say his Pa sat on him when he was a baby giant thinking he was a big cosy cushion, so he's not as big as other giants." He also pointed out Gladebreeze the Centaur. She had long hazel locks and was dressed in fine silks that draped from her shoulders and back like a sheet of flowing water. She was the humblest centaur-maiden Reepicheep had ever seen.

Another great Centaur stood there, Granitegale the Warlord. And as the Brown Bear continued to inform Reepicheep, he told how he lived up to his name for he was unyielding as a rock mountain and as merciless as angry winds when it came to his profession. Although the Brown Bear was surprised at the mouse's lack of knowledge, for being long-lived with the jolly folk of the southern forests the mouse was raised caring little for renowned warriors and battles, he was patient and told him much.

"Granitegale united all the Narnians after decades of terrible battles. You see Mr. Mouse, lots of silly dwarves and Minotaurs and all those kinds of odd-looking beasts, he fought against them with his army of noble warriors, for they wanted everyone to agree to find a White Witch so that she could rule Narnia! Granitegale would hear none of it! But have you ever got that feeling Mr. Mouse about some beasts? I have anyway, where you dare not turn your back on them in case they do something horrid! Terrible beasties! I tell you Mr. Mouse, keep both eyes on them, especially bats, wolves and – oh especially dwarves!" lectured the Brown Bear, over speaking his last words louder than he intended, alerting the ears of a company of red-hooded dwarves smoking their pipes, they gazed at him inquiringly. Enormously embarrassed, the Brown Bear held the honey pot to his face and stuck his muzzle into the hollow, whilst Reepicheep kept silent so as not to aggravate the awkward situation.

Reepicheep coolly looked on observing the battlefield as the herald announced a new challenger to the Champion. His name was Sir Tutterbrush, who happened to be a Red Squirrel, and so inspiring Reepicheep's next question,

"So, it is not just mice who compete in this particular tourney? Burrowlance jousting?" The Brown Bear first peeped around the honey pot to ensure the dwarves were still not looking at him before answering,

"Hibernation sakes, surely not! Any beast small enough to sit on a hare can take up a Burrowlance challenge. What about you Mr. Mouse? Are you a warrior of a sort? Do you ride a hare?" inquired the Brown Bear.

"I am Sir Reepicheep. I am a mouse of the sword and have never been acquainted with a hare, much less ever rode one." replied Sir Reepicheep.

"You are a knight and you do not have a mount? Does not Granitegale send knights of his command to find a mount for themselves before he lets them fight? A good warhare is hard to come by I have heard." said the bear.

"That may be –ah may I ask your name good bear?"asked Reeicheep.

"Baulber Bear..." stated the Brown Bear.

"An honour to meet you Baulber Bear." said Reepicheep. "Eh- That may be Baulber, but I am not under command of Granitegale. I have but one Lord that I serve." he said. As their short conversation unfolded, the two mounted knights on the field approached each other at a canter (if a hare can be capable of such a performance) and passed by one another thirty paces apart then turned about. The mounts stormed into a full gallop while the armour clad riders honed their spear points to the breast of their opponent. _Thump-a-thump-a-thump-a-thump-a-thump! _The foot paws of the hares throttled the earth_. Crash! _Sir Rosensqueak's spear took Sir Tutterbrush beneath his hauberk splintering, as the squirrel's spear point pierced into the void of the air, and the force hove him backwards to the ground. Once again the crowd rose up with cheers. Sir Rosensqueak dismounted, removed the helm of his fallen opponent and raised his unsheathed straight sword for a death blow.

"Beg mercy squirrel! For your life is mine to grant or take!" trilled the voice of Rosensqueak for all to hear. Tutterbrush failed to answer and at that moment his skull was caved with a ruthless blow from Rosensqueak's blade. Even the most hard-hearted beasts cringed at the sight of the act. Reepicheep was appalled, how could a knight live with that shameful act against his honour? The squirrel did not even have time to answer! The herald announced the victory as Sir Rosensqueak rode off the field.

"That is an evil knight if ever I seen one." muttered Reepicheep in disgust.

"Who is your lord then Sir Reepicheep, if you are not under command of Granitegale?" inquired Baulber the bear.

"Aslan the great Lion and highest King of Narnia. None surpass him my good bear, and-" Reepicheep was cut short as the bear began to chuckle. "What is so funny? Desist your foolishness bear for I could not be more serious!" His chuckling grew to resounding bursts of laughter, extremely irritating Reepicheep. He had quite enough of the bear's company so he bid him a courteous farewell and went in search for Pattertwig so that they could continue on their errand to confront the Stewards of Narnia. It proved easy enough to find him, for when he did, the giant Gormatunk was chasing him round and round in circles in a playful game and the giant was clearly on the edge of exhaustion. He fell back and sprawled across the ground, gulping the air into his lungs, calling it quits. "Pattertwig you fool!" he exclaimed. The squirrel sped toward Reepicheep jauntily.

"All's well Sir! Just a bit of fun! No harm done! Are we movin' on pray tell?" he chimed.

"That we are, now compose yourself if we are to be taken seriously! Everybeast already laughs at us when we utter the name of Aslan. I don't need your foolish antics to make our quest harder than it already is!" scolded the mouse, berating the garrulous Pattertwig. So, on they went, approaching the perilous looking wooden gatehouse. There was quite a steep hill up to the guarded entrance, almost like a motte except there, instead of a stone stronghold on top, was the great tent. And if you have ever visited a Motte and Bailey Castle you would know how awfully steep the side of the slope is and how tiresome it is to walk up them. That is what this was like for Reepicheep and Pattertwig.

"Halt! Who approaches the Pavilion of the Stewards! Speak quickly!" demanded one of the guards, who Reepicheep assumed was a satyr. His horns protruded out of his helmet and he was bestowed with the feature of goat-like legs.

"Aslan's greetings to you fine soldier. We have come to seek an audience with the Stewards of Narnia. I am Sir Reepicheep and this is my squire Patter-" began Reepicheep, but the guards would hear no more from the mouse.

"Be gone with you vermin!" barked the satyr guard.

"Aye! The Stewards do not wish to deal with bedraggled rats who would call themselves knights!" scowled a dwarf in matching armour to the satyr. Reepicheep was mortified to hear such cruel words.

"I should run you through for such insults! In the name of Aslan, I demand an audience with the Stewards of Nar-" Reepicheep said no more. He was dealt a harsh kick from one of the guards which sent him tumbling down the hill, as Pattertwig stood aghast. Two guards pursued Reepicheep down the hill and seized him from both sides. The mouse was too stunned to fight back. They hauled him to the centre of the field where the jousting took place. One of the guards addressed Granitegale the centaur who stood upon the parapet.

"This one claims he is a knight, yet his shield bears no decoration of your Lordship's order!" the guard pronounced. Granitegale furrowed his brow in disapproval.

"Who do you serve mouse? By what right can you claim yourself a knight?" demanded the centaur. Reepicheep broke free of the guard's grasp. Pattertwig scrambled to his side and handed him his shield. Reepicheep bore the shield on his left arm and unsheathed his rapier, performing a salute to the imperious warlord.

"I am a Knight of Aslan! I serve him and no other! I am a knight because the Great Lion wills it! And I will have the head of this guard before the day is out if he does not repent for his ill treatment of one more noble than himself!" said Reepicheep in his noblest sounding tone. The satyr turned his spear against Reepicheep but his thrust was stayed by Granitegale's command,

"Stay your blade guard! You, mouse! You shall put your bold words to the test. I have never heard of this lion named Aslan or know what country he rules, but here in Narnia every creature is responsible for his own words. Why do you come here if you are who you claim?" spoke the centaur.

"I've come for an audience with the Stewards of Narnia!" announced Reepicheep. The crowd of Narnians all conversed among each other, quizzing and lecturing each other about the matter at hand until they were silenced again by Granitegale.

"As you wish Sir Knight! But first you must prove your title. First you must act upon the challenge you took to the satyr guard in single combat. If you overcome him, then you must face one of my squires that seek to become a Knight of the Burrowlance. If then you prevail over that beast, then you must combat against the Burrowlance Champion, Sir Rosensqueak. Only then will you speak with the Stewards. Where is your mount, surely you have one? You have one hour to prepare yourself, then come straight back to the battlefield." spoke the centaur. Reepicheep bowed and took his leave.

The hour that had been granted to them for preparations was mostly spent searching for a suitable warhare for Reepicheep. The warhares whose riders had been killed that day were too overcome with grief to bear a rider into any battle. But one was more filled with vengeance than with sorrow. That was the warhare of Sir Tutterbrush, the doe named Thistlefur. She walked with a slight limp, but she would not let that hinder her from partaking in another joust and the two companions realised she was the only choice that they had. They also decided that Reepicheep would have to fight without armour, which did not bother Reepicheep in the slightest. His shield had proved better than any suit of armour in the past.

The first contest was now before them; Reepicheep would fight the satyr whose name the herald announced as Agathius. Reepicheep's pride was still hurt by the kick the satyr dealt him when he was caught unawares. _"Now the brave Agatius will be shown that I am no bedraggled rat." _he thought to himself.

"Good luck to you little mouse!" mocked Agathius with a sly smirk, unsheathing his short sword as he stopped five paces from the mouse. He had no shield. Perhaps he was overconfident facing a smaller opponent. Then again, he might have just preferred to fight without a shield. There was no command for the fight to commence, but it was clear to both combatants when the time had come. Their gaze's met. Agathius still with the wicked grin upon his face, had a sinister look in his eyes, visioning the punishment he would deal out on the little mouse. Reepicheep was burning with anger from the blow to his pride, but he would have to control it or it may prove to be his downfall.

Agathius made an advance with a straight thrust overestimating the reach of his sword for Reepicheep barely had to shift one pace back to avoid it. The satyr began to slash wildly with his short sword; clumsy and predictable blows that Reepicheep dodged and let glance off his shield. He was clearly a poorly trained soldier. The mouse dived between his goat-legs and slashed upward with his rapier sword. The satyr gave a cry of dismay and held his rump in a fitful jig of pain dropping his sword, as the crowd roared with laughter. Reepicheep waited until he rearmed himself and held fast for a counterstroke. The satyr came at him as a fury possessed animal. With a reckless down-stroke he assailed in vain for he was disarmed with a prick to the hand by Reepicheep's rapier sword. The mouse drove his blade into the satyr's shin and he fell to the ground like a sack of rocks. Before he could recover, Reepicheep knocked the satyr witless after a flurry of solid blows with his shield. Agathius lay limp across the grass as all the Narnias cheered again.

Thistlefur wasted no time in waiting for Reepicheep's bidding. She made her way onto the field leaving Pattertiwng in her wake. "Let us rid the little one from our path so we may make an end to the squirrel slayer!" she said to Sir Reepicheep. He hopped upon her back and up came Pattertwig to deliver to them the wooden lance.

"Take care of this spear! It's the only one we've got!" advised Pattertwig in a solemn manner. Receiving the long reaching weapon, he set off against his next opponent at a canter as was customary for Burrowlance jousting. Reepicheep couldn't tell who the beast was that he was about to fight, but only knew as much as Granitegale had said, that he was a squire who seeked to earn his knighthood by taking up this adventure. His armour hid all his features that would distinguish the kind of creature he was and the device on his shield was strange to Reepicheep.

The two combatants passed by one another to span the appropriate distance for a good run up. Reepicheep listened for the sudden thrashing of the charging warhare before turning about because he wasn't certain what the set distance was supposed to be or if even there was such a rule. As he did Thistlefur sprang into a charge at the squire. It occurred to him then that the warhare was likely to have jousted countless times in the past and was all too familiar with the rules of the game. They rode head on at each other and came together like rival stags as both spears splintered. At that fateful moment a number of things happened all at once. The mouse's spear dealt a blow to the squire's helm, shattering the poor beast's neck bones causing instant death, but of a more honourable death there is none he could have asked for. Reepicheep took the blow on his shield heaving him off Thistlefur's back, but at that instant the strength of the warhare's injured foreleg failed her. She fumbled as the pain struck her then it gave way to her weight combined with the force of the collision. Reepicheep had won this battle, but at what cost? His mount was maimed and his only spear had shattered.

Reepicheep had just gained his feet again only to see Sir Rosensqueak riding at him full tilt. The world still seemed to burl about after the harsh fall he suffered from the last bout, but reckoned there was no point in feeling sorry for himself or Thistlefur who got the worst of it, for now his hardest battle was upon him. He'd never fought mounted warriors before, and the last experience hadn't ended so well, so he trusted completely in the skills he did know instead of being reckless with creative tactics. It all happened so fast; before he knew it the other mouse was upon him. Reepicheep took a mighty spear blow on his shield knocking the wind out of him and jerking his body violently. Sir Rosensqueak's warhare then stumbled over the fallen Reepicheep sending the Burrowlance Champion to the ground. Sir Rosensqueak was quick to his feet and loomed menacingly over Reepicheep as he lay battered and winded on the grassy sward.

"Cry for mercy Sir Knight, for your life is mine to grant or take!" he roared for all to hear as he unsheathed his sword. He swung his sword back for a deathblow as Reepicheep failed to answer briskly enough. The metal blade sung through the air, hungry for the taste of blood. And blood it did find, but not as Rosensqueak had intended for the evil blade carved a crimson gash upon white fur as lifeblood upon the snow. Gasps of horror from the crowd cast a shroud of guilt over the heart of Rosensqueak. But the sight before him, and the knowledge that it was his doing, tore his heart completely and spilled out shame and grief, drowning his proud and arrogant spirit. Upon the bed of grass beside the beaten Reepicheep, lay the lifeless body of the white foxcub Lilyvix.


	5. 5 Wings of a Message

___** Wings of a Message **___

_**~Now upon this fateful day,**_

_**Atop the mountain sat an Eagle.**_

_**He spied from here all far and wide**_

_**And hither and yon as the wind blows.**_

_**'I see, I do, I think I spy…'**_

_**Says the feathered buzzard,**_

_**'Oh yes! Oh my! A terror! I'll fly!'**_

_**So off in haste the eagle fluttered!**_

_**With all speed, he's swift,**_

_**And light of spanning wing!**_

_**Now across the Western Wilds**_

_**A message he does bring!**_

_**Make way you idle clouds!**_

_**The eagle's errand is urgent!**_

_**And stay you quiet Master Wind and Lady Rain,**_

_**Let his journey be faster than the sun burns fervent!~**_

From the East the sun had risen and witnessed the events of that day. Now falling to the West a woeful soul rode across Narnia towards its failing light. His sword was now stained with the blood of the innocent and he felt that his shame had dragged him far from the reach of redeeming his honour. And so, mad with anguish he would ride beyond the borders of Narnia to see what fate held for him there. For truly, in Rosensqueak's sorrow-ridden mind, there was no place left for him in the land of Narnia.

Relentlessly he pushed his warhare to the limits of his endurance, fording the water streams and traversing the open grasslands, they reached the shores of Shuddering Wood. The night-fires of the sky were sparing with their light as they hung languidly behind solemn clouds. The wild ride ended with the day, so Rosensqueak found a mossy hollow at the base of a tree concealed with fronds to rest. In the pitch darkness only a slight shimmer of pearly eyes prevailed near Rosensqueak. His jet-furred warhare, a buck named Hoddinbrook (but more than often called Hoddy), was still struggling for breath. He quaffed down some water from a basin-like tree stump then rested in the company of the doleful mouse. Rosensqueak gazed wistfully into the night as the warehare ventured to break the stolid night-silence.

"Hearken m'puffin, Rosensqueak! Hah-hah, it'll be lights out for ol' Hoddy after he's had supper, what ho! Wha'd we bring? I can't bloomin' see anything!" Rosensqueak paid no heed to the garrulous warhare. He was weary, yet his mind was still drowning in tormenting thoughts. He struggled to grasp the reality of what actually happened that day,

_"If only I had given to showing mercy to opponents, and been less hasty with my sword hand, I would be celebrating with my fellow knights instead of fleeing like a common criminal. They would drink to my title; Sir Rosensqueak, The Burrowlace Champion, and I would be seated in honour beside Granitegale at feasts. And perhaps I would have been granted my own command of warriors who I could train to outshine the valour of all the rest. But even if that could not be helped, was it the best thing to do? Running away like a cowar-"_

"Here me bucko! Are you listening to me? Do you have my food or what? I'm bloomin' wastin' away here, what ho!" exclaimed Hoddy, giving Rosensqueak a good shake.

"Curse your appetite Hoddy!" roared Rosensqueak shoving the warehare away from him, "There is no food! Go and find some yourself! I'm going to sleep so leave me alone!" Hoddy was in the right mind to scold him for being so reckless as to forget to bring rations, but excused the matter because he guessed well the emotional state of the mouse. He thought it was wise to wait until morning to forage for food, for he could barely see his own paws in front of him in the shrouding darkness.

That night Rosensqueak barely slept two winks. As morning came, Hoddy was aghast to see him climbing to the treetop, still clad in full armour. "Rosensqueak, blusterin' winters! Where are you going?"

"Never mind Hoddy. I'll be down soon!" he replied.

Hoddy mumbled something to himself, "Aye. You'll be down soon enough if you fall, ejdiot." Rosensqueak, oblivious to Hoddy's last remark, glared longingly westwards from the treetop pondering the journey ahead. The verdant expanse of treetops stretched far that way, beyond the reach of his sight.

_**~"Quack, oh joy this water is cold!"**_

_**Said the ducklings of Cauldron Pool.**_

_**Indeed the pool t'was as they had said,**_

_**Churning and swirling like a drunken fool.**_

_**Rowdy and loud was the falling water,**_

_**From the top of the frowning cliff it fell.**_

_**"Quack, one, two I swim faster than you!**_

_**But unheard was Young Duckling under waterfall's knell.**_

_**Blindingly black came tides of evening,**_

_**"No fair, for I am no bat!"**_

_**Down swooped the eagle to the edge of the pool,**_

_**Only to be attacked by a cat!**_

_**With a mouthful of wing-feathers,**_

_**It fell with a splash,**_

_**Flailing in the depths of the pool!**_

_**A terrible sight left for the eagle,**_

_**Upon his wing; a bloody gash!**_

_**And the cat drowned like a burdened mule.**_

_**"Blast you puss, death you deserve!**_

_**I cannot fly with a maimed wing!**_

_**Ahoy young ducklings! What say you**_

_**To the delivering the message I bring?"**_

_**"Oh yes, quack quack, just please do not eat us!"**_

_**Cried the ducklings and heeded him well,**_

_**So 'waddle-de-waddle' through the woods they went,**_

_**Remembering the news that he did tell!**_

_**"One quack, two quack, three quacks full Sir!**_

_**Who does he think is?"**_

_**"Oh hush quack! Shut up! He'll hear us, quack!**_

_**"We'd best do what the bigbird says!"**_

_**With all speed, they're swift,**_

_**And light of duckling wing!**_

_**Now across the Western Woods**_

_**A message the waddlers bring!**_

_**Make way you monolith tree pillars,**_

_**For the ducklings mission is of vast importance!**_

_**And stay your claws and jaws nocturnal predators!**_

_**Let their journey be safer than a Mr Rabbit's tea sampling conference!~**_

The gloom of sadness hung heavily in Mama Fox's Tavern as the slumbering western sun heralded the coming of nightfall. In a cosy backroom apart from the main living quarters a lively fire flung festive shadows dancing about the room. In one bed lay Reepicheep with bandaged ribs and poultices wrapped about his body and head, leaving one tattered ear hanging and the other squashed flat beneath a neatly tied knot. A badgermaiden had tended to him that day who had now left him in the care of her mistress; Denenshale the herbalist. As you may know or have guessed, Narnian badgers make great nurses and doctors, I'd trust my own life in the hands of those wise creatures especially after being gored with a mighty wooden lance from a skilled rider then trampled by a great warhare, only shortly after being struck from the back of a speeding warehare and crashing to the solid ground (that's if I was still in one piece, for I am no mighty mouse warrior).

Despite the badger doctor's trustworthy healing paws, one challenging case of a patient lay before her. In the second bed lay the sickly foxcub Lilyvix. Her frantic efforts in the stomach-churning affairs that physicians often face (though I won't detail them for fear that you might not be allowed to read this story) were the only miracles the cub and mother fox could hope for to preserve her life.

The gentle badger stood back from the bed of linen sheets where Lilyvix did lie and rubbed her paws off on her apron with a downhearted sigh. One mistake she always made was allowing her emotions to become entwined with all the sorry creatures that she treated and the pain that they were suffering. Nothing she could do was ever good enough for them. She would go beyond all possible lengths even to make her patient even one tiny bit more comfortable. She was the chief example for all her nurses. All the toddlers and waddlers, hatchlings and puddlepaddlers, pawsuckers and tailchasers and all the Narnian young beasts were very fond of her treatments, because no matter what their aliment was or what bumps or bruises they came to her with, she would hand them a paw full of assorted honey-candied nuts to bribe away all of their tears. (And if you are wondering, I shall tell you now that Pattertwig actually turned his nose up at them when he was a little tree-scamperer. "Icky sticky honey!" he would say, "Silly, stupid bumble-bees ruining my scrumptious-yummy nuts!") But candied nuts were the last thing on everyone's mind this cheerless night as Pattertwig and the mother fox sat by the fire anxiously to hear Denenshale speak.

"I've done all I can dear madam. How she has survived this far with such a wound is beyond my reckoning. All we can do now is hope that time will see her well again. She's a strong little cub, there is hope yet left for her." said the badgermaiden solemnly. Mamma Fox's worst expectations were subdued for now.

"Thank you so very much Denenshale for helping her. You will always be welcome in our home!" sobbed Mamma Fox embracing the badger tenderly.

"And what of Reepicheep?" inquired Pattertwig distraughtly, just barely containing himself.

"He is wrapped up nice and good as you can see, his wounds will heal quickly. But your friend suffered a nasty blow to the head.. You can never tell when a beast could wake from a trauma induced sleep. I can't truthfully tell you when he will be on his feet again. I've seen sleeps like that last from a few days to a few years; your guess is as good as mine young one. I'm sorry I cannot do more for him." she stated regretfully. Pattertwig's spirit sank so low you would think that he would never smile again if you seen his drooping face right then. "Do not think twice about coming to me if needs be again! It's a badger's speciality like my mother used to say! If'n doubt with no Queen Lucy about, no matter the malady or time of day just visit your local badger…" Her voice became inaudible as she left the room murmuring to herself waving her pawfinger like a willow wand.

"No doubt the old dear is off to help another sickly creature, bless her soul." sulked Mamma Fox, kneeling by Lilyvix's bedside fondling her snowy fur with tear-sparkled eyes. "Reepicheep will pull through Pattertwig. You'll see. You are more than welcome to stay here until he gets well again." offered the foxmaiden.

"Thank you kind fox. For now, I think I need to go for a walk. It seems like years since I've been up in a tree, will you be fine on your own?" he asked courteously.

"Of course. I'm not on my own, I still have to put the other cubblings to bed. You be careful, it's very dark this night." she implored to Pattertwig. So Pattertwig took his leave with a courteous farewell to the foxmaiden. He trundled across the dew laden grass with his head hung and his feet dragging sulkily. It was indeed an abnormally dark night but this only dawned on the squirrel when he left the torchlight of the camp. His mind had settled on the intention of finding a peaceful branch among the tree foliage for a good night's sleep in solitude. His wits were dulled by his concern for his friend and whatever he shall do if Reepicheep ends up sleeping for months on end.

"Hail Squire, 'tis a wonderful night for a pleasant promenade, what ho!" Pattertwig found himself pinned to the ground on his back by some vibrant creature that had pounced out of the darkness. He was simply petrified. He closed his eyes and a flashing image of hungry jaws sprang into mind from a lurking nightmare. The weight on top of him began to lax off, so all in one spurt he scrambled to his paws and made a run for it. "Pattertwig! Come back, I want to talk!" spoke the voice again. His momentum dwindled to a stop and the sense of danger vanished.

"Well, only if you promise not to pounce on me again!" he shouted at the pitch emptiness before him in the direction the voice came. "Who in the name of Perpetual Winter pounces on someone if they 'want to talk!'?"

"It's Thistlefur!" the voice came gradually closer again, "How is Sir Reepicheep? He is a valiant fighter if ever I seen one, and Moonwood knows I have!"

"Oh! I see your leg is much better! He's sleeping. And what or who, if I may ask, is a 'Moonwood'?" replied Pattertwig.

"I'll be turned to stone if I know! It's just something we hares say. So, he's only sleeping? That's lucky considering the beating he took!" said the hare squinting in to the night, just glimpsing the shadowed frame of the squirrel.

"Turn you to stone? Why ever would I do that? Do you think I am the White Witch or something?' cried Pattertwig, 'Denenshale said there is no telling when Reepicheep will wake up again.'

"Uh, the White Witch?" muttered the baffled hare, "That is unfortunate about the mouse. But I have lost my rider for good. All my tears have been shed for Sir Tutterbrush and I gave him an honourable funeral. I have come to you now with a proposal, now upon this starless night. But before that I must ask one other thing."

"Ask away, whatever you like, just don't try to show me anything because I won't bally well see it!" blurted Pattertwig rubbing his eyes, wondering if he had turned blind.

"Okay, well didn't you like it when I pounced on you?" asked the hare, her voice tinged with confusion.

"No! I thought you where a huge cat come to make an end to poor Pattertwig!" he gasped.

"Oh I'm sorry! Tutterbrush used to like when I did that, I guess all squirrels aren't the same." she said melancholy.

"I'm sorry for your loss. It was a cruel death that no descent squirrel would ever deserve." said Pattertwig placing a forepaw on the Thistlefur's head affectionately. The thought of a sudden outburst of tears from the hare piqued him to change the subject, "Now then, let's hear now the proposal you wish to deliver to me, my fair lassie-doe."

"Very well," she began obligingly, "now I understand well that you are the squire of the injured mouse, correct?" Pattertwig nodded but of course she couldn't see him.

"Mmh-hmm!" he replied after an elongated silence.

"Well here is the situation: Granitegale's generals are enlisting volunteers to go to the aid of Cair Paravel. It is constantly under threat from sea raiders. Flotillas of the vermin's vessels loom on the eastern horizon. Their sole aim is to invade Narnia and destroy everyone in it as several truce bearers now know well as they lie on the ocean floor. Soon their hordes will amass on the beaches where our warriors meet them."

"Ah, that is bad news, but why have you come to tell me about this?" he queried. He was very unsettled hearing such news.

"Don't you see! It is the perfect opportunity to gain your knighthood! That's what you want isn't it? What more honourable way to do it than to defend Narnia itself from its enemies and drive them from our shores! You will return victorious from the greatest battle of our age and Sir Reepicheep himself could knight you when he overcomes his long sleep and-" the hare's marvellous tirade was halted by the squirrel.

"Hey! Look here Wonder-ears! Nobody said anything to Pattertwig about being a knight! These paws were made for pickin' nuts not playing with silly swords. If you need your shield polished of your sword brandished, you know the squirrel to come see, but you'll never catch Pattertwig swinging and stabbing at poor creatures." ranted Pattertwig zealously. Thistlefur was crestfallen to hear his negative response.

"That is unfortunate. Will you sit here and nurse the fallen mouse while the best of us go to find glory and honour? I doubt he would approve of that! One can fight without a sword you know. But know this; your decision disgraces me as well. I am not much use in battle without a rider. I've always been a Burrowlance jousting hare, I've long forgotten how to punch and duck and bob and weave and skip like the boxing hares. But I would gladly ride into battle alone as a swift Burrowlance hare without a squirrel rider, for I will bear not other creature of my own will, and find an honourable death." she said earnestly. Pattertwig sensed no false words in her speech and was sure of that at least.

"You wish for me to be your new rider?" gasped the astonished squirrel. The hare shoved a thin, broad object into his chest which he was obliged to grasp lest it fell and smote his footpaws. The moonlight tore through the black abyss and held a lunar spotlight upon the two creatures. Pattertwig observed that Thistlefur had handed him a great shield of steel, shaped like an oak leaf, with a device on it that couldn't have appealed to his fancy more if he crafted it himself. It was of a green oak leaf with three delicious looking, perfectly ripe brown acorns. The gluttonous Pattertwig had to wipe the drooling saliva from his mouth to maintain his dignity before the noble haremaiden. "I would be honoured to be your new rider Thistlefur."

"The honour would be all mine" replied Thistlefur as the radiating eye of the night sky shut and all was black again. "That was Tutterbrush's shield, he was the last of the Burrowlance Squirrels as now you shall be. I laid him with his sword, but I doubt you would want it anyway knowing that you're not overly fond of swords." A roguish smile splayed across Thistlefur's face in the midst of the pitch darkness unbeknown to Pattertwig.

"Too right Lassie-doe! With swords I don't abide!" said the squirrel.

"Then how do you plan to fight the sea-vermin without one?" piped Thistlefur curiously.

"I don't mean to wave my own brush, but you'll find I'm more than adequate with a sling." he replied haughtily.

"Ah, I think you will find it's not quite the same on hareback. I think the occasion calls for some practice riding. If I recall truly, you've never rode on a warehare such as myself, and we may be called to service within the hour. There is not a moment to waste." retorted Thistlefur. She could not have spoken more truly. After about an hour's practice on hareback dashing and manoeuvring, tilting and bounding, (and a good deal of falling and fumbling which I won't detail to save the dignity of Pattertwig), the howl of the herald's horn summoned all willing warriors to the ranks to be briefed before setting forth, east to Cair Paravel. Thus Pattertwig and Reepicheep parted ways.

_**~See the hatchlings go waddle-de-waddle**_

_**On through the hungry wood of night spooks!**_

_**One by one till a dozen was gone**_

_**Gobbled up from every direction they'd look!**_

_**One is yet left! Do hurry with all haste**_

_**For if you are eaten the message'll be lost!**_

_**Waddle-de-waddle to the edge of the wood**_

_**Now to cross the river, young one, at all cost!**_

_**"Quack, Quack! Oh my!**_

_**The duckling had said**_

_**Because up from the river,**_

_**With a splash, popped a head!**_

_**"What's with the hurry?"**_

_**The gurgling river god asked.**_

_**"Quack-oh-Quack! Will you help?"**_

_**Cried the duckling, in a panic, right'n fast.**_

_**Benevolent was the river god!**_

_**For much more than glad was he**_

_**To bear this message by the waterways.**_

_**And the little duckling went free.**_

_**With all speed, he's rapid,**_

_**With the resolve of a gushing gully!**_

_**Now bound for Beruna's Fords;**_

_**The message bore by water for none to sully.**_

_**Towards and around the river bends!**_

_**By thunderstreams and raging river torrents!**_

_**Make way for the rushing river god!**_

_**Woe to those who dare test his forbearance!~**_

Refreshed by the cool morning air they commenced their woodland trek. They daylight that beamed through the foliage filled the forest with green radiance as if it shone upon the forest floor through a stain glass roof. Side by side Rosensqueak and Hoddinbrook travelled through the depths of the wood at a leisurely pace. They were confident that the headlong dash they made the previous day gained a suitable distance between them and any creature that might have pursued them from the Stone Table. But even so, they were still quite drained and spirits were low. You must realise also the distress of the warhare Hoddinbrook. His whole life his passion was to be the best of all warhares and win glory and recognition among them. Now his life seemed to be like a chess board that Rosensqueak, by his hasty actions, flipped up into the air and scattered his pieces all clattering to the floor, left with no choice but to start the game again. And you know how annoying that can be when you are enjoying a good board game and then someone, for whatever reason, stops playing or messes up all the pieces. That is how Hoddinbrook felt; expect this was his life it had happened to so it was much, much worse.

Rosensqueak's mind was less muddled and his heart was soothed in the tranquil forest. But just like a warehare, Hoddinbrook saw no point in all this sulking and lack of conversation. He struck up a marching shanty,

_"Oh- when I was a young buck_

_My father he would say,_

_"Never play with fire me child_

_'cause I'll lock ye in yer room te stay!"_

_Now the bloomin' ol' buck was wise,_

_But I never feared'im one bit._

_Only I'd listen after I set the forest alight_

_Cookin' vittles with me hands with no spit!_

_What ho- one, two. What say you?_

_I'll sing ye a warhare marchin' choon!_

_Now any ol' mouse does know,_

_That Hoddy will out-joust the best._

_Squabblin' and fighting,_

_As if they were impressing a doe,_

_But in the end I picked Rosensqueak over the rest!_

_What ho- one, two. What say you?_

_I'll sing ye a warhare marchin' choon!"_

And so he sang in his heartiest warhare tone (including some quite ridiculous, improvised lyrics), and indeed he proved nothing lifts your spirits like a good marching tune, for even Rosensqueak forgot his troubles and sang along. On they marched to the far end of the woods; heather and turf at their feet to soften their steps and a leafy canopy to deflect spying eyes, they met no adventures all that day so their minds strayed to wild aspirations for their future. Some ideas they shared and others the kept silent, but whatever way they looked at it, so far each others friendship was the one thing that they were sure of.

Far and wide the howl of the herald's horn resounded. Upon the parapet stood Granitegale holding his battle standard. All of his warriors were summoned and formed their battle formations all across lawns surrounding the mountainous pavilion were the Stewards resided.

"Listen well warriors of Narnia! I'll tell you of the enemy we now face!" boomed the voice of the centaur warlord for all to hear, "Upon a time long ago truly unreckonable, it is told by the stars, that there once was a White Lady who ruled Narnia. She banished all the snakes and serpents from the land and into the Eastern Sea to make a better life for her minions. As her face reflected upon the water it shone brighter than the moon for one hundred years and the serpents stayed far from the shores."

"Know this, I'm not one for poetic and romantic stories and I question that someone has read the stars wrongly if that is at all possible for a maiden to do!" he burst into a hearty chuckle at the discriminatory remark. Many of his warriors feigned a chortle obediently, and many of the giants laughed along just for the sake of having a good giggle. Gladebreeze took the joke like water off a ducks back. She was used to the warlord's sense of humour and lack of appreciation for her stargazing gift. She was indeed among the best at the art, but much like the attitude that a barbarous, war-hardened general would have towards a poet or bard who would write or sing colourfully about inspiring subjects, he heeded her councils with scorn and doubt.

"Silence! It does not matter about the level of truth in this story. My scouts do not lie. They have seen them up close and from afar. They are no match for our army, I say, for you fight for Granitegale! What horde of vermin can ever stand against this great army? Victory or Death! Fly now, swiftest of you creatures, and man the walls of Cair Paravel. You shall embrace them first with your steel. When their efforts are committed to besieging the stronghold, the bulk of our forces shall meet them and crush them on the walls of Cair Paravel and drive them off the edge of the cliffs, straight to gates of Perpetual Winter!"

Battle cries rose in evident approval. On ahead rode and flew the creatures that were gifted with speed, straight to the gates of Cair Paravel. The bigger fraction of the army stayed and was briefed more thoroughly about Granitegale's battle plans, among them where Pattertwig and Thistlefur. Granitegale sent his most competent generals while he stayed at the camp at the Stone Table. One reason for this was that he still felt strongly about the matters that the Stewards were debating, and he would not see the country's fate left in the hands of "a cohort of snobbish, bickering old cods!" Also as a very tactical leader, he didn't want to commit all of his forces to one place.

And so, as morning gave wings to the sun of noontide, the lawns all about the once great encampment of the Stone Table was now as an empty valley, with a mottled selection of lonely tents about and, of course, the massive white pavilion still raised above the Stone Table itself, and still enclosed by the staked palisade wall. Still there was the little mound structure with the chimney spout on top, Mamma Fox's Tavern. From the chimney puffed languid motes of smoke heralding the dying of the fire within. Reepicheep struggled to a state of dizzy wakefulness. Any attempt of movement sent streaks of pain all down his limbs and through his chest, so there he lay very still, always still, listening to the whimpering of some nearby creature. Unknown to him (for how could he know?) it was Mamma Fox herself by the bed of Lilyvix.

_**~"By the mermaid's confounded seahorse!**_

_**The Fords of Beruna at last!"**_

_**The river god's journey had ended,**_

_**For beyond the river banks he cannot pass.**_

_**Waiting, pondering and bubbling,**_

_**Above the depths he seemed stranded.**_

_**Again a blessing from the sky,**_

_**For a drink a robin had landed!**_

_**"Good day Mr River God!"**_

_**chirped the red breasted birdie.**_

_**"My word, my beak and feathered tail!**_

_**Away went the birdie in a hurry!**_

_**The message the river god had told him,**_

_**Bade him to fly swiftly to the Stone Table,**_

_**Carrying the message all the way,**_

_**What is this news or song or fable?**_

_**Never in your live-long life**_

_**A faster robin would you see.**_

_**Over valley and glade and river alike**_

_**How I'd love to sit upon his back**_

_**And revel in wondrous glee!**_

_**And how I wonder if you were me,**_

_**If you'd do these same things too?**_

_**I'd wave to the fauns of Dancing Lawn**_

_**"Hello, how do you do, how are you?"**_

_**Now ahead of the rapid robin**_

_**Sky-pointing like a big wizard's hat,**_

_**Towered a great, massive pavilion;**_

_**A mountain upon the grassy flat.**_

_**"Hail there hefty big fourlegger!"**_

_**Chimed the robin to Granitegale.**_

_**And he sang a robin song ineffable,**_

_**Thus delivering the message in hopes faithful.~**_


	6. 6 The Nymph of The Lantern Tree

_**The Nymph of The Lantern Tree**_

**-o-**

The mouse and the jet-furred warhare, Rosensqueak and Hoddinbrook, came finally to the rim of a downy region that lay on the other side of the Shuddering Woods. The air turned cold as furtively as the colour-draining mantle of evening draped across the land. The sky was depleted of its cheery, aqua blue radiance and stars appeared all and sundry about the morose expanse above them. Into the early morning hours they travelled before they were forced to bivouac coming to a river edge, they did not want to take needless risks trying to ford a river in the darkness of night. Although Rosensqueak thought it safe enough to light a fire; a thought spurred on by the idea of cooking the bird eggs that they raided from a nest during the day in the forest. "Hoddy, get you the fire going!" ordered the mouse as he went about scouring the river shore. It didn't occur to Hoddinbrook what he was doing until he had the fire lit, and what a fire he did make! He came trundling to, laden with a stacked heap of fire wood from the forest which he had the sense to gather for he noticed the lack of trees about the place of the river (And for those of you whose Narnian geography is as bad as my own, I would venture a guess that this was the Telmar River that had cut across their path. Although, I don't know if they knew that name or if the Narnians of that time had a different name for it). Then, with the woodlore of the military warhares he kindled the timber using dry moss and flint and, in the time that it takes for a warhare to twitch their nose, the bundle of wood was ablaze with the heat of the sun itself singeing the night's cold fingers. It was then that Rosensqueak loped out of the darkness and heaved a hefty, slate-like slab of stone amidst the fire sending sparks and ash aloft and all about.

"Yhaoo! That'll make a good frying pan, it will!" guffawed the warhare retreating from the startled blaze, very pleased with the result of his toil.

"Yes indeed!" said Rosensqueak, pouring the contents out of the broken eggshells one after the other and sizzling on heated surface of the slate-stone,"Tonight we'll eat hearty!"

"Break out the mushrooms and the grubby-roots and well have ourselves feast fit for the army of Granitegale, what ho!" and with that 'what ho' the hare littered the ground with a mass of fruits of the forest which he had collected throughout the day and stowed in a makeshift haversack that he resourcefully crafted. "And I think, that even in our exile, we have no right to abandon the rituals of a civilised, warhare repast!" he muffled with a mouthful of roots and shrubs and gesturing with his paws quite sagely.

"Very well, if you really must Hoddy. But I'm hungry so make it a short one, before the eggs get cold!" Rosensqueak knew well what he meant by 'rituals' and it wasn't far from the accurate truth, for warhares were fond of fitting melodious words to their meals almost religiously. (And heed this bit of advice, for any wise host that is unfortunate enough to serve a meal to a band of warhares to their satisfaction knows well not to hinder their songs of feasting. For that brief time that their mouths and ears are full of song, it makes all the difference to the amount of food that the gluttonous creatures scoff down. And if you ever find yourself serving a warhare or a company of them, be sure to encourage them to sing heartily all throughout the meal if you have any intention to have food left for yourself.)

"Jolly good me bucko! Perk up your ears and silence your chops, and hear the ballad of Javeljuff the Ravenous!

_Oh- In the year of Bountiful Harvest,_

_In a burrow of a Beruna valley he was born_

_With twenty brotherbucks and sisterdoes_

_They all had to flee from him, out under the sun of morn!_

_He raided all the cupboards and all the winter food stores,_

_Yet still was Javeljuff that hungry that he tried to scoff his kinfolk!_

_But in vain was his chase, for from all the tucker he did engorge_

_He grew so wide, that he couldn't get out so digging dwarves did evoke!_

_Some hares box and some hares joust,_

_And forever peaceful are those that's left._

_Javeljuff the Ravenous, as big as a house,_

_Out-scoffin' the rest was what he did best"_

_Dwarves came with shovels and dug him out_

_And marvelled at his wondrous size!_

_Said they, "Really, that hare is ever so stout!"_

_So he scoffed them swiftly to no surprise!_

_One year when he grew older,_

_When his hunger was widely renowned,_

_He came by Guzzlebeard the Centaur._

_A beast with more stomachs since is unfound._

_A stomach for that of four creatures he had,_

_A man, a horse, a giant and a hound!_

_But foolish was this one centaur,_

_Another thing ever since I've never heard!_

_He challenged him to an scoffin' duel, and no surprise,_

_Javeljuff won, scoffed him too and his whole centaur herd!_

_Some hares box and some hares joust,_

_And forever peaceful are those that's left._

_Javeljuff the Ravenous, as big as a house,_

_Out-scoffin' the rest was what he…_

- Oi don't start without me your sneaky glutton, what ho-ho!"

And so their meal began and finished without another word and not a morsel was left for even the ants to scavenge. They slept off all their weariness the length that the stars' reign did last.

**-o-**

At this time, as night encroached upon the day, Granitegale the Centaur Warlord passed through the gatehouse of the stockade surrounding the Steward's Pavilion then stood before the threshold of the tent itself. It was clear that he was burdened with troubling thoughts, and all the more clear to the elegant Gladebreeze who approached him with her sagely gaze and unleashed upon him a desperate word horde,

"Most troubled is Granitegale,

I know the troubles with which you are laden.

I proclaimed this thing was yet to come,

But the mighty, strong warlord would not listen.

Extinguish your fires of anger, for they hinder the rivers of wisdom!

I beseech you, stay this action!

At least let them hear the message; their spilled blood will destroy the kingdom!

Narnian wisdom with them will die and-"

"I know what I'm doing!" scowled Granitegale, startling Gladebreeze with his outburst, "I will tell to them what the robin told me, but I doubt, through their pettiness, that it will hasten any agreements between them." So Granitegale stormed into the great pavilion, and of course there were all the Stewards of Narnia and this was the way of it. There was a perfectly round table widely encircling the primeval stone landmark; The Stone Table. A seat was there for a spokesperson of every race under Narnia's eastern born sun. The scene before Granitegale was the picture utter of chaos.

"I'll be plucked and stuffed with my own plumage for a giant's dinner before I would see a Dwarf ruling Narnia, too true, whoo, too true!" hooted the owl across the diameter of the table and the dwarf beamed with fury, roaring a jumbled ream of words that nobody understood and shaking his fists and striking the tabletop. At another part of the table a satyr, a badger and leopard were bickering amongst each other beneath the argumentative voices that echoed about the tent. There was an ancient old faun there as well who was futilely trying to calm the lot of them, walking round and round the table and dealing with each quarrel individually, but by the time he got round the same ones again they were all in an even bigger uproar than before. The most peculiar thing you would have noticed if you were there is that the smaller creatures seemed to be causing all the raucous while the larger creatures were lucky enough to get the odd word in. All too often they would be rebuked for submitting their opinion and were continually reminded (whether true or not) that because they were so big that they weren't very smart.

"-but kind sir ape, us elephants never forget, don't you know? Narnia really should have a human child in the throne-" began an elephant, only to be interrupted by the ape.

"Look, there you go again! Just keep your elephant chops shut before you mess everything up! Let me do the talking for you. You know you aren't very smart. Why don't you go and get us another trunkful of peanuts so that we can share them, go on, go on!" suggested the ape, and the elephant obliged, for he found that nibbling on peanuts did him the world of good to calm his nerves in the claustrophobic tent full of the rowdy small-beasts.

"Heed well, Stewards of Narnia! For our doom may be upon us!" boomed the voice of the warlord, silencing every creature at the table. All eyes turned to the imposing centaur.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the wolf finally.

"I have been informed of a great army approaching from the land beyond the mountains at the edge of the Western Wilds. I tell you this in hope that you shall come to a decision sooner rather than later, thus putting forth the winds of urgency that they may bring speed to your sloth-like decision making!" said Granitgale.

"And from whence, may I inquire, did you hear this erratic tale, o' mighty warlord?" jibed the vixen.

"Surly it cannot be! No invaders have dared to oppose the inexorable country of Narnia since a time unreckonable! Why would they try now?" said the challenging stag.

"Fools you all are if this is what you think! A horde of vermin is encroaching on our land from the sea as we speak! I have issued our armies forth to meet them!"

"Oh Granitegale! You are such a jester! If such a thing were to happen surely we would know about it!" chuckeld the hedgehog nudging her otter friend beside her, thinking it was all a big joke.

"Well then," said Granitegale, struggling to suppress his anger, "I suppose all of my scouts are terrible liars. I severely doubt it muck-dog! The deaths of my sea scouts are enough proof for me that there are no peaceful merchants approaching Cair Paravel! And a message from the West was sent directly to me by a winged beast who wouldn't dare report treacherous messages, for their feathery hearts are not bold enough even if they intended to."

"Did you hear that everyone!" announced the ape, "The mighty warlord says a little birdie told him a story! Oh-ho-ho-hoo! Why do we let you big-beasts in here? Look Granitegale, you know you aren't very smart. Let us do the thinking and you can do all the fighting when we decide upon it, sound fair? You can't trust birds anyway. Of course you wouldn't know that Granitegale, its not your fault, its just because you aren't very smart! Oi Lumbertrunk! Go give Granitegale a peanut, he looks terribly upset, that's not very smart, not very smart at all. You dumbeasts- I mean, you bigbeasts are always upset, you aren't very smart at all." rambled the ape garrulously. But it was well for the ape that Granitegale did not hear that last comment he made. The warlord had already left the council. He had heard all he needed to; the Stewards would not listen to him as he knew rightly that might happen. War was upon them. Not a time for bickering about who shall sit in the throne and be honoured above all the rest, for there was all the lives of Narnia to protect. Now was the time for action and it seemed apparent to the warlord that he was the only one capable to take the reigns from the idle Stewards to wheel the magnificent steed that is Narnia about to face those who would dare to meet them in the storms of battle. And with fury burning within him, a very rash action he did take.

**-o-**

_Reepicheep wandered through a forest; the air was unsullied with flawless purity, vacant without odour or sound and with a type of loneliness that makes one feel peaceful within themselves. Draped all across the forest floor and on every tree bough was a layer of the whitest of snow that would enchant any beast as it glittered and sparkled if they took the trouble to notice it. The air was smote with his breath as he exhaled and his footpaws went numb as they delved deep into the frosty carpet. The sky went pitch dark above the pines and it was then that Reepicheep seen a light betwixt the trees. The light grew stronger as he approached till finally he stood before a tall black pillar which stood but a bit short of the tree tops, but it was on top of that pillar where the light was coming from. The light radiated about the small clearing from behind a glassy, box-like object that encased its source. There Reepicheep stood in a little island of light amid the dark, snowy forest for some time, glaring at the flickering light in wonderment._

So far Reepicheep had really enjoyed this odd little dream he was having and thought of it of little importance. But it was at this point that he began to question if indeed it was a dream at all.

_Suddenly Reepicheep was startled by a disturbance among the snow-clad foliage. The blankets of snow fell like an avalanche and piled in a mound at the foot of the tree. What had caused the snow to fall off the tree? Was there some beast stalking Reepicheep? As you can imagine it was quite frightening for the mouse; even the bravest of warriors get scared sometimes. It was then he noticed that he had no sword or shield. He prepared himself for the worst; a fearsome night stalker of a beast will pounce from the tree shadows._

_From the pile of snow, out popped a fuzzy white head and, whatever creature it was, it leapt from beneath the tree and frolicked sprightly over to Reepicheep and set upon him a most mysterious yet jovial gaze. He seen it was the fox cub Lilyvix, and he was relieved, then awestruck and happy then anxious all in a sequence of confusing moments for in the time that it takes for a mouse to find his tail in the morning the fox cub vanished in a flurry of light. He looked where lantern-box should have rightly been and beheld not a lifeless object of metal and glass, but something else entirely. The supposed planes of glass opened out like a flower bud in spring and unleashed an awesome display of life. First the beams of light were very straight, like the ones you would see piercing through the clouds on a dull day, but then they looked very agile and nimble and curved every which way and formed a beautiful blossom of pure light. Then there was more light. It seemed to grow, like any plant would, spreading long vines all down the black pillar, reaching to the sky with immensely long branches with leaves and blossoms that took many shapes. Some were like normal shaped leaves of any tree you would see but others were shaped like stars and other ones where shaped like snow flakes and some were just little spheres of light. In a moment then all the blossoms shrivelled up each one in their turn and formed various shapes of fruit that swelled bigger and bigger, then dispersed almost one by one and then in twos and threes (and it became much like a fireworks display as they exploded and flashed), sending a hail of light particles down on Reepicheep much like rain drops. His fur became completely sodden with the light, but it wasn't at all unpleasant or uncomfortable or heavy like it is if you get drenched with water in the snow. He stuck out his tongue gently and let the droplets alight on it (and if you can ever remember a time when you were standing in the snow or rain and did the same thing, you will remember how irresistible it was to do so, but it was much more delightful for Reepicheep because it wasn't water like normal rain or snow) and he made a most wonderful discovery that summoned words from his mind that caused joy within him to completely envelope his whole being, "…where the water grows sweet…"_

_The droplets of light were ever so sweet indeed, but not at all like the same sweetness you taste when you eat fudge or toffee or whatever your favourite sweetie might be, because this light seemed very nourishing and he had the feeling that nobody in all the Land of Narnia could have truthfully told him that it was bad for him – in fact he noticed that he felt healthier than ever. The light became too overpowering for the mouse's eyes that he was forced to close them. But he noticed the strain of the light on his eyes gradually easing for the light that he drank made the lantern's radiance more bearable to look at._

Reepicheep opened his eyes. He was standing in the dining area of Mamma Fox's tavern. The bewildered mouse gawked about the place frantically wondering if he was still dreaming and how on earth he did come to be in this particular place without his knowing. He caught a sight beneath his nose of the four fox cubs, all giggling and sniggering and sticking their tongues out at him comically mimicking what Reepicheep was doing moments ago.

**-o-**

The great army, that departed from the Stone Table at the order of Granitegale had, marched from dawn till dusk. Many Narnian warriors went swiftly ahead of the main host of the army such as the wolves, the cats, those mounted on horses and unicorns, the gryphons and many beasts of the air, they went to make hasty preparations for a siege that was to be set upon Cair Paravel.

Pattertwig and Thistlefur were among a band of warhares and their riders who were in the rear ranks of the army to save them getting trampled by the clumsy big-beasts. The thing was that Pattertwig stuck out like a crooked whisker, walking along side his warhare like the rest. All the mice, squirrels, voles, shrews and smaller dwarves and other beasts that made up the legion of Burrowlance riders numbered in the hundreds and Pattertwig was the only one not outfitted with armour. Some of his fellow riders thought he was insane for being so reckless, and of course questions were bound to be raised, "Does this squirrel not know we are marching to war? Where is your spear? Where is your armour?" asked a dormouse who had no helmet because his ears were almost the size of a hare's and would not likely fit them into one.

"Well my mouse-chum, it looks as if I forgot them. Completely flopped out of my head it the idea did!" said Pattertwig in reply. It was not entirely true of course, he just wanted to spare himself the mockery that would be threw at him from the haughtier knights who would look down on him if they learned that he didn't know how to use a lance and wasn't accustomed to wearing armour. But the result of his efforts only gained quite another kind of reputation. A big grey squirrel knight in marvellously silver armour overheard Pattertwig's reply.

"Are you of a simple mind Red Squirrel? It's either that or you are attempting some valiant feat in the attempt to surpass the rest of us. We don't approve of boasting squirrels, especially red ones!"

"Well I don't care two flying Billy Goats what you approve of, quite frankly! I like being a red squirrel and no nuts to you if you don't like us!" retorted Pattertwig feeling quite offended.

"Oh- _no nuts to me_, is it?" the grey squirrel raised his visor to reveal his furry face; it was the picture of pure anger. "That's a cruel thing to say! Although I'd expect as much from one of you red nut-hoggers!"

"Stuff it squirrels!" piped the dormouse, "Its always the same with you bounders! 'Lay off my bally acorns' and 'two nuts to this and nuts to that!' You would drive any mouse to mouldy cheese feast!"

"But just listen to him," the grey squirrel pointed at Pattertwig, "It's clear he was dropped on his head from the highest branch of the Nutty Tree!" The dormouse and his hare chuckled at the thought.

"Ha-ha-ho ah me! By what name do you go by good squirrel? It's just a bit of sport if you understand." he asked Pattertwig and he gave his name turning an irate glare away from the grey Squirrel.

"There you have it! Pattertwig of the Nutty Tree! A knightly name if every I heard one!" scoffed the grey squirrel. Thistlefur had to restrain Pattertwig from striking out at the grey squirrel and she pulled him away to a rear position of the ranks and berated him for being so foolish. And then the marching song began and the matter was forgotten.

The great army marched to the loud tattoo of the dwarf drums as they struck them wholeheartedly. The fauns and satyrs played their woodwind instruments to the traditional war tune of the birds. All birds knew this heartening tune: the robins and sparrows, ducks and swans, flamingos and storks and the all the buzzards and blackbirds and magpies, they knew every majestic note of it. I truly regret never learning how to read and write music on paper because I have no way of telling you accurately how it went. It went by many names and was sung by each bird in its own way of singing. Even bards and storytellers who had no feathers on their backs adopted their favourite parts and put words to it but they would always forget the tune even if they wrote it down until the next time they heard it from the birds again, then it would come back to them like a long forgotten dream. The thing about it was that the more birds there was to sing it, the more enchanting and strengthening it grew and now there was a great many beaks winding fluent and loud. The march seemed more like a dance to each and every creature for the song was in full go and they stole across the land like a great river and met the sight of eternal east as night fell upon the land once more. Cair Paravel was under siege as was foretold. The fortress stood on a forlorn island in the middle of a bustling ocean of torch lights, moon-lit blades and the bodies of the vast sea-vermin horde. The army of Narnia was now standing at the shores of battle and preparing for the plunge into its very depths.

**-o-**

Now before the story rolls on leaving the mystified Reepicheep's part left untold, we shall go back and hear how it went back at Mama Fox's Tavern.

Mamma Fox discovered the dumbstruck mouse standing in the dining area and she quickly shooed off the four mischievous fox cubs. Reepicheep found all his aches and pains completely gone and Mama Fox sat him down with a fabulous meal to fill his belly which he ate fervently (and believe it or believe it not, sleeping for long hours is most certainly a hunger inducing chore). When the tasty repast was all gobbled up she accompanied him and he told the gentle vixen every detail of his dream and all the while she heeded every word that left the mouse's mouth with a tender smile that left from beneath her muzzle, uttering not a word of surprise. "You are indeed very wise fair vixen, what light can you shed on the meaning of this revelation?" Reepicheep finally asked.

"What light _can_ I shed on it deary? Y'know already all there is t'know. It is as ye said; that the white creature was Lilyvix. But there is a question that I'll put to ye; is she a foxcub at all?" Reepicheep's thoughts were still racing and the question was like a shock to his mind. "How many white foxes do ye see in these parts? And how many foxes do ye know can flow like the wind in a stream of light? And-?"

"Ach, enough questions!" said Reepicheep, "let me think!"

"It doesn't take much thinkin' laddie! Who lives as the forest lives? Ye saw it was no lump of metal sticking out of the ground. Guess! Go on!" she began to laugh at the mouse's furrowed face as he rummaged about his own head for answers that seemed so obvious to her. Then something dawned on Reepicheep.

"A Nymph!"

"Aye!" the fox said, letting her voice linger in the air, almost whispering the word with an elongated breath.

"But how? It wasn't a tree…nor was it any normal lamppost I suppose."

"Ha-ha, defin-toot-ly not laddie! Now your gettin' it. I'll save yer wee head a bit of trouble and tell ye what I know. It's my turn for a wee storiee! Now-" A so she told Reepicheep all about Lilyvix and who she really was. But I won't tell you in her own words because she did so enjoy playing with Reepicheep, asking him difficult questions and gently ushering the answers out of him and there was a number of interruptions from the four fox cubs. Apparently there was a quarrel over who ate all the honey that one of the bears had given to them to share. They all found it amusing to blame Puffletail and they made up some very cruel names for her. The foxcub would have none of it, she took the honey encrusted pot and stuck it over Redwusker's head and tugged Muzzlesnuffer and Diddlepaw away by the tail if they tried to help him get it off.

Mamma fox once had a dream, much like the one Reepicheep had, about the Nymph of the Lantern Tree which since then is what she called her, for that is what she was. As much as dryads and nyads are spirits of the trees and the water, you could well say she was the spirit of the Lampost. Just as a very 'matter-of-fact' person can say that a star is only something made up of gas particles, I'm sure they'd rightly say "Oh but surely, its only a lamppost made of iron and with a gas-fuelled lamp on top of it…" But if you've read any stories about stars, you know that that isn't what a star actually is but only what it is made of. This was also true about the lamppost, and if you have heard the story of the beginning of Narnia, you'll know that this lamppost, the one in Lantern Waste, grew from the soil as any tree would. So if Narnian trees are full of life why wouldn't this lamppost be? So if at first you thought the idea to sound quite ridiculous, you only have to think about it _logically_ to see the truth in it.

After her dream Mamma Fox went to find the lamppost. At this time she was very distraught because her husband was reported missing after a being sent west to subdue a band of outlaws. The little nymph said that she was tired of living on her own in the forest. She being the only one of her kind wanted to live with ones that she could call family, so Mamma Fox welcomed her to live with her and her fox cubs, so she gave her a foxmaiden's name and they were a great comfort to each other. She lived quite happily with her newfound family and the nymph made life with the fox cubs much easier for the fox mother because she was very inventive at captivating the bouncy young cubs and keeping them out of trouble.

"So ye see Reepicheep, you must go to the nymph's lamppost! She does't appear to beasts in their dreams for their whimsical amusement, you should go as soon as you are able." said the vixen.

"Why was it snowing though? Do not tell me that I have slept all summer!" gasped Reepicheep.

"'Tis still summer, worry not! She says that she just likes the winter and the snow; it brings wonderful memories back to her from the distant past, so she always comes to beasts in their dreams in the snowy forest and-" she stopped, and flicked up her ears. There was a great ruckus outside. They both dashed out of the tavern and to their dismay the Stewards Pavilion was all ablaze like a massive bonfire, the flames leapt ten times the height of the tent itself. It was no natural blaze. The wicked flames were the work of evil magic, for they bore the hues of green and blue. A great rain of fire-lit arrows fell pitilessly on the burning pavilion. Reepicheep sighted a company of dwarf archers half a bowshot away from the palisade wall, releasing volley after volley at the whim of the warlord Granitegale. He had enlisted a family of hags to feed the flames with their magic. Apparently satisfied with his work there centaur rode away eastward into the night, leaving the flames to do their work.

**-o-**


	7. 7 The Satyr Champion and The Death of Th

**The Satyr Champion and The Death of Three Kings**

The sky flushed with crimson as the east gate of Cair Paravel looked to the sun as it reared its face over the horizon sending forth long straight fingers of light teaming twixt the battlements of Cair Paravel and to wash upon the frivolously blossoming apple trees in the orchard.

The forces of Granitegale came upon the flanks of the sea horde like the surging tides of a stormy ocean upon the jagged rocks, commencing the abominable din of battle. The sight of the invading creatures was a hideous novelty to the Narnians, their features laid bare in the full light of dawn. They had hides like plated armour and their eyes bulged as ever watchful domes that flashed their ominous slitted pupils this way and that. The salt air of the coast was tinged with the odour of blood that rose from the gore-sodden ground and the gannets were never at peace, for they were upon every fallen beast quicker than crows upon carrion. Pattertwig stole across the battlefield among the Burrowlance Riders mounted on Thistlefur, her footpaws flagging beneath her. "Get ready your sling for we are almost upon them!" warned the warhare. Her speed abated quite suddenly to a dogtrot.

The rest of the Burrowlance Riders thundered onwards and cut through the ranks of the enemy. A group of the armour-clad riders were dismounted by the force of the collision and went about dealing with their adversaries with drawn swords. Pattertwig fitted a pebble to his sling and burled it aloft, the thong cutting the air with a whistle. He eyed his target; a baleful eyed serpent with its fangs bared at an unsuspecting warhare.

At the height of its momentum, Pattertwig let fly the pebble and it sung through the air true to its target, delving deep into the snake's skull and it slumped limply to the grass.

"Hurrah! If only nuts were as soft as snake heads it'd save me chompers a lot of work, what Wonderears!"

"Lucky shot Pattertwig, there's a whole horde left to sling at if you're done gabbing!"

The death of the snake was noticed by some of its cohorts, their eyes flicked about for any possible assailant. "Sss-quirrel! Sss-curvy sss-tone sss-linger, sss-gaah!" hissed a neck-frilled lizard, and with his last sibilant hiss a stone from Pattertwig's sling knocked him unconscious. In a trice a host of reptiles flicked their eyes in Pattertwig's direction and they all scampered and slithered and bumbled over one another to pursue him. Pattertwig fired stones willy-nilly in an effort to repel them. A wily grass-snake made his way around the back of the squirrel and his hare and coiled ready to strike,

"Ah, Sss-lipery sss-quirrel!" Its head sprang with its venomous fangs bared. Thistlefur wheeled about and the serpent's face smashed against Pattertwig's shield and rattled him witless.

"Killee Sss-linger sss-quirrel!" bawled a lengthily monitor lizard who was lashing his tail at other Narnians who were prodding the beast with spears. Some of the nimblest reptiles pursued Pattertwig and Thistlefur, confident that they were the predators of the mass hunt at hand.

"Call me a soppy gorse bush, but those stink-toads are gaining on us!" blurted Pattertwig glancing over his shoulder. But the unflappable doe replied coolly,

"No stink-toad can outrun a warhare, don't be silly you old tree jumper! Get ready to fire more stones and hold on tight."

Thistlefur put on a burst of speed, gaining a fair distance away from the pursuers then reared to face them again as Pattertwig unleashed a missile felling another lizard. The reptiles cowed at the sight of the mounted squirrel that confronted them, spinning his sling menacingly and seeking his next target. He picked off the rest of his pursuers one by one.

Pattertwig and Thistlefur had their battle plans well sussed out. Hit and run tactics that they adopted worked well for them. They were the speediest and most blithe team of all the Burrowlance warriors solely because Thistlefur wasn't laden with a rider armoured like a beetle, and the thrills of battle were almost those of jollity, as if it they were two youths taunting creatures so that they would chase them, then when the reptiles least expected it they would turn around and then it would be their turn to chase the reptiles. And every time they did it, they became more proficient at their new game, as did Pattertwig's slinging technique. He found his shots most accurate when he loosed the stone the exact moment that all four of Thistlefur's paws were off the ground and he became more than a perilous nuisance to all the foe beasts that he harried with his stone slinging throughout the battle.

**-0-**

The ravenous flames raged upon the hill of the Stone Table all night, burning as beacon of treacherous and malicious light. A chaotic tempest of ghouls, spooks, wraiths, incubuses, bats and spirits of evil trees and poisonous plants teemed and swirled about, screeching and soughing like mountain winds, all drawn like moths to the flame to the evil magic that laid a fetid reek of death in the night air. The croon of the hags swept across the land stealing sleep from the very trees and from the bairns in their cradles to the most venerable old beasts deep in their burrows or behind the think walls of their tree hollow abodes. The onlookers stood horror-struck at the massacre before them, set upon by the radiance of the ominous flames tinted green and blue. But what could Reepicheep do? A sword is no weapon to combat fire let alone the remorseless enchantments of the hags. And as much as Reepicheep would have loathed to admit it, he was chilled to the bone with fear at the dreadful sight.

The mouse closed his eyes and his mind drifted to that night when he met Aslan and found himself once again simmering with strength and purpose.

"-cheep! Reepicheep!" echoed a voice as if from afar.

His paw strayed to this rapier and he burst from his reverie and beheld the land flooded with the light of dawn. "The magic has destroyed the very hill upon where the Stone Table was built!" Mamma Fox beckoned him to look there, and he seen the Stone Table itself unscathed by the flames but it was as if the hill was never there at all. The ancient stones were resting on a flat lawn level with the rest of the valley and in the areas where the earth should have rightly been charred and scorched, there grassy sods and tufts all greener and neater than that of the surrounding land. They saw that the hags and the haunting beings of the night had vanished with the very shadows at the break of dawn, and nothing was left of the Stewards or of their round table and great pavilion. The site of the Stone Table was quickly filled by a phalanx of the forest creatures, their voices accentuating their bewilderment profusely,

"Moidewred! All the Stewards moidewred! Thee horror! Thee horror!" cried one of the racoons grabbing his ears in a distressful panic.

"I smellee treachorieee! Treachoriee! Graneegale killee Stewards! I seen'em makee hags killee 'em with 'e mageeek!" piped a sparrow fluttering about frantically. A little family of shrews offered their opinions on the matter as well,

"The hill is gone! Who took the Stoney Table's hill away?"

"It was a big Giant, it was! No wait, an ettin! Came and rolled it up the rocky mountains, oh aye ,oh aye!"

"You're a terrible fibber! I seen him myself, he sat on it to smoke is pipe the he dropped his pipe and made it all on fire! He did, he did!"

"No, no! Lots of beardy men chopped it down and floated it down the river because they thinked it was a big tree!"

"Don't lie you little villains!" interrupted one of the fauns.

"He did! Oh aye! I seen him, he did! He did!" chorused the shrews.

Suddenly there was a hush upon the crowd. Gladebreeze appeared on the scene with swan-like grace, her emerald garments flowing like stream water. About her were a small company of foals, lambs and fawns that followed her unbidden but of their own will, nibbling the grass to taste their mouths when the fancy took them and performing sporadic leaps or hops now and then, but never straying from the centaur maiden. She passed by the forest creatures with a finger set upon her lips imploring silence from them all, and not another word was uttered.

Approaching Reepicheep, her hooves scarcely made a sound on the earth, her face beset with a solemn harmony. Any other mouse would have withdrew from Gladebreeze's gaze and flushed to the colour of beetroot, but Reepicheep was invigorated by the memory of his knighting by the Lion and it was as if Aslan's breath was laid fresh upon him once more. He could now look past the flower of her beauty, a thing most beasts fail to do (so much so that they are bemused by anything she says to them), and no time was spared for idle greetings by either party as Gladebreeze spoke words of pure eloquence,

"What has past is now past.

What's been done can't be undone,

Just as stars can't stop the rising of the sun.

One day a prince of Adam's kin will be born,

But till then Narnia's rivers will flow red,

For some think nought of tears and bloodshed."

There was a pending silence between them while Reepicheep pondered her words then spoke, "I saw that poltroon who calls himself a Warlord, slaying with arrows from afar and accepting the abetting of evil magic! My heart sorely yearns to pay him for this cowardly deed. It is said you read the stars, Lady Gladebreeze; an extent of wisdom that is beyond that of my own, so I beseech you tell me were I will best serve, for my mind is clouded with anger." She was pleased at the attentiveness of the mouse,

"Its good you're prudence outshines your rage.

Stargazer am I, no rumours deceive you.

A Centaur's twinkling scroll never strays from what's true.

Though Perpetual Winters are without trace

Jadis's icy magic still lingers

Like frost at dawn in a shadowed place.

Still some suffer from the touch of her frosty fingers.

Seek out that which summons help

When filled with man-kin's breath.

With breath of a beast its sound is felt

Shattering dark magic and warming frigid death.

Go to the place of your dream

For its where you shall begin.

Accept a boon, where light does teem,

From the apparition of a foxes' kin."

And with these words said the centaur departed to the woods with the whole company of the creatures and animals tailing behind as faithfully as a water wake follows a swan on a calm lake. Reeipicheep knew that's all he would hear from her and bid farewell to her with a chivalrous bow.

It was no warm meeting like that between two friends, but still Reepicheep felt a mysterious sense of loyalty to the centaur, almost spell-bound to the words that she spoke, accepting them as truth as he would accept the grass to be green. He shinned to the Stone Table's top and stood occupied with distant thoughts. Mamma Fox came bearing his shield with the crimson lion upon it. "What was she gabbling about now? Didn't I tell ye? Dull-brain dust! The hags have cursed the waters to make us all pudden heads and folly-jabberers!"

"No my friend." replied Reepicheep, "That is not the way with Gladebreeze. She has set me upon my path once more and I must be on my way now if I am to follow it."

**-0-**

Rosensqueak dreamt of lounging in a flowery orchard in the full heat of summer. The air was sweet and about him where mousemaids and dryads all good to look upon bringing him fruit and beverages at the clap of his handpaws and lulling him into lush euphoria with their delightful voices.

He was drawn back to reality as he found himself sprawling about shallow water after a smarting splash that left him gasping for air.

"What's thae matter? Can't ye swim wee mousey?" scoffed some beast amid a howl of chorusing laughter. He came dripping and spluttering out of the river shallows unsteadily over the miry bank. There at the edge of the camp was a mass of chaffing animals. Cats, rats, weasels, ermines, foxes, ferrets and stoats all tawdrily dressed and scantily clad with armour, waving flint-tipped spears and stone headed axes. Rosensqueak addressed one fox ruddier than the rest with a slightly more orderly appearance.

"Cur! Give me your name fox! I prefer to know who a creature is before sending him to face Perpetual Winter's gates!"

"Not so fast thae noo! One more steap an' I will'll cut thae braw rabbit's gizzard! I am Badbrush, Captain o' thae Outlaws!" The fox raised his sword, much like a big meat cleaver, to Hoddy's neck. The warhare had been knocked senseless and was now in the grasp of the vindictive contingent of beasts. "Take oaff yer pretty armour an' we promise tae not fill'll ye fullah hoales!" A dozen of the beasts had notched shafts in their bows strings waiting for the mouse to comply. Rosensqueak couldn't contain himself. The thought of a bigger beast manhandling him in such a way as the fox did made him seethe with humiliation. His thoughts were waylaid from all else except for drawing blood from Badbrush. He stole across the length of the camp with his drawn long sword, driven by bloodlust.

The _twag _of bowstrings sang out as Badbrush had expected, and was already pre-empting the death of the mouse as his handpaws yearned to grope at the mouse's carcass and claim his armour for himself. Horror suddenly gripped Badbrush. Many of the arrows flew astray of their target and those arrowheads that struck true to the mouse's midriff and breast perished on the dwarven forged metal work that the mouse wore. Badbrush gasped and fell dead at the bite of Rosensqueak's blade. He stood with his chest heaving for a few arduous moments letting his battle rage cool off, then a thought stuck him: Why have they not avenged their captain? Rosensqueak was completely taken back by what met his ears,

"Hurrah! Our new captain! Captain Badmouse of the Outlaws! Hurrah, hurrah!" the outlaws chanted, accentuating each '_hurrah_' with a lofty salutation with their weapons. In a twinkling he was hunched over Hoddy, whom Badbrush had slain in the instant before his own death. The mouse sorely wept over the fate that befell his warehare, the life pouring from his lifeless body.

The band of outlaws witnessed this and thoughts encroached upon their minds to think twice about nominating the soft hearted mouse as their new captain. But in that instant, Rosensqueak fought back his tears and stood to face the outlaws. From that day it was as if Rosensqueak's heart was of ice. Those who remembered him long after said that if his heart had not frozen to all emotion then, it would have broken that day in grief for his friend and been the death of him, and it would have been better for many beasts if he did. "I am Badmouse! All who follow me will be rich-beasts and all who oppose me shall meet slavery or death!" he bellowed. The outlaws mouthed their approval,

"Badmooouuuse! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

And so, Rosensqueak began his new life among the outlaws as their Captain and dwelt for a while upon the Western Wilds, but that does not come into this story. News often reached the Narnian forests of him and then were only whispered about his wicked deeds and stirring of trouble, and although he left behind his rotten reputation he soon became but a passing memory of all Narnians who concerned themselves about him.

**-0-**

The towers of Cair Paravel loomed gloriously out of the tides of battle. Both opposing forces fought vigorously upon the eastern edge of the land, but gradually the sea horde's numbers dwindled to a fraction of what they once were as Granitegale's forces remained resolute and gave no quarter to the sea invaders.

Every Narnian warrior took their own stories away form this momentous battle and I'm sure they would all be great stories of gallantry and heroism on their part but I will tell you of only some I know.

It was on the very beach that lies at the foot of the cliffs where Cair Paravel overlooks that Sally the Heroine fought her last fight. She was the most fearsome looking giant that you could ever hope to see (or hope not to see). Her helmet had horns of a giant bull that she slew with her bare hands. She made a feast of that beast in celebration of her victory and stomached it all by herself. She made bread with its bones and short work of the meat and not to mention a pot of stew with what was left of it. She was most feared for the hazardous spiky boots that she wore into battle for none that took a blow from them lived to tell the tale. But her fate was upon her this day as she fought passionately on the beach at the edge of the water. From the sea emerged a mighty beast that seized her leg with razor teeth from under her. As she lay wounded on the sand a sea lion loped up to her side.

"Oh urr, you silly girl!

Tell me why on the beach you're lying?

Oh urr, you wouldn't dare

Fight the dragon up thurr flying!"

It was then she seen that it was that same beast that had chomped off her leg. It was a hateful eyed dragon, who had risen from the sea with powerful thrusts of its billowing wings and spouting fire from its mouth. Then the sea lion spoke to her again,

"Oh urr, you are no giant

Lazy! Tiny! And, uur, stout!

Oh urr, big haughty tyrant!

Oh urr urr, and what a size for a snout!

Rage burned fervently within her, spurred on by the impudent sea lion's taunts. She rose on her one leg she had left, growling in pain like an anger-frenzied grizzly bear. With the life she had left in her, she leapt into the air at the dragon and sent her arm past the dragon's gaping maw, deep into the cavernous throat of living fire. She fumbled for the very heart of the beast and wrested it from its roots and in the same moment their lives left them as their hulking forms thundered to the earth.

It was late in the battle when Granitegale arrived to the fight from his treacherous work at the Stone Table. The desire for the thrills of battle sent him down upon the sea hordes in a final sweep to end the fight. Now with him was the champion of satyr warriors. His name was Ajax, and he was renowned in battle for his magnificent chariot and his team of fine stallions who drove it. With his name there was a prophecy among the satyrs that with his death there would be the fall of three kings. One horse was named Trottingrain, who was as grey as the rain itself, and one named Nightingswift who was black as night and he was the faster and stronger of the two and of all the horses in Narnia. His charioteer was a badger named Trufflestripe, and of a greater charioteer there is none. He had a certain way with dumb beasts, such as those that drove the chariot, that made him as skilled as he was at his profession. Ajax's spear was considered a masterpiece of dwarven weaponry, so much so that they bestowed it with the name 'Heron's Beak.'

On the large, the battle was won. The vessels that the sea horde had disembarked from were demolished, lying on the shores as a welter of scorched and hole spattered wrecks. So, unable to retreat to the sea, the remaining seahorde beasts fled Northward to the mountains and found ways deep underground and dwelt their until the end of time in deep slumber with the oath that they would devour the land if they ever awoke.

Ajax and his team pursued them for he had not wetted his blade yet being late on arriving to the battle and was eager to put his skills to practical means. He terrorised the fleeing reptiles with his charging team that sounded like thunder behind them.

He charged into a thick wooded area were he passed by a hag. "Give me your spear Ajax! If you refuse me I will put a curse on your name that shall never be lifted." she crooned.

"I have sorer need of it than you, but never have I been cursed for being discourteous, nor shall I this day!" he replied, and with that said he hurled the Heron's Beak at the hag and as it passed through her, impaling nine seahorde beasts behind her, she moaned,

"You do you kindness ungently!" And as the evil magic left her with her life, it sent the Heron's Beak flying at the chariot team and lanced through Trufflestripe's shoulder.

The badger growled in agony,"However shall you drive your chariot now Ajax? I am at my end!"

The satyr took the reigns to drive the distressed horses who caught the scent of blood from behind them. "Never worry yourself, old friend, for that is among the matters for living beasts to concern themselves with." He withdrew the spear from the badger's body releasing the charioteer's life with it. Ajax tied the reigns about his waist so that his hands may be free to wield the Heron's Beak.

All throughout the forest it was as though the thunderclouds were held beneath the leafy canopy as the team drove on at an unrelenting pace, harrying the fleeing beasts.

"Hail there hasty goat-legs, give me that spear!" crooned another hag he came by.

"Nay, for I need it more than you old woman!" he said.

The wretched hag persisted, "You dare deny me? Don't you know that the Highest King himself once gave his very life because a sorceress asked it of him? I will put a curse on all of Narnia if you deny me a second time!"

"Alas, then you shall have my spear, for I shall not put my own honour before that of Narnia's." Then again he threw his spear like a javelin and it skewered the hag and nine more seahorde beasts and fixed itself in the earth, all of the slain hanging lifelessly on the length of the spear shaft. Then the dark magic left the body of the hag and sent the Heron's Beak soaring back to the thundering chariot team. The spearhead delved deep into flanks of Nightingswift and the beast whined in painful anguish, a sound that caused grief to lance through Ajax's heart. "This is a sore sight indeed, for surely this will be the death of Narnia's finest horse! May your hooves always be swift my friend, and may there be many a mare in the land beyond the sunrise for you to take for you queen!"

The satyr pulled the spear from the beast's wound with fountain of crimson and loosed the bonds that held Nightingswift to the chariot, then rumbled on through the woods still in pursuit of the seahorde beasts until yet again a third hag by the wayside demanded his spear from him.

"Throw me your spear, satyr, or I will put a curse on your name that none shall forget!"

The satyr's eyes flashed with contempt, "I have paid my dues this day against a curse on my name already, wench!"

The hag's voice crooned again, tinged with roguish mirth, "Then I will put a curse on all of Narnia! You dare not deny me!"

"But I have redeemed Narnia and its name from any curse to be set upon it this day!" said Ajax.

The hag would not leave Ajax be at that, for her kind find pleasure in bringing grief upon other creatures, just as the Ajax would find joy in hunting stags or having a maiden in his arms, so she persisted still, "Woe on you satyr, for I shall then curse all those who you hold dear to your feeble goat-man heart!" Ajax thought then of his hunting hounds baying before the hunt at Cair Paravel, his friends at arms whom he had came through thick and thin with in countless battles and he thought of the maidens at court whom he had not chose one dearest to him yet to take to his hearth. He would not see harm come to them so he dealt the same kindness that he did with the other hags, again slaying nine seahorde beasts with the same throw.

As the hag died and the magic cascaded from her upon the forest floor, it enveloped the Heron's Beak and sent it singing betwixt the trees, back at the charging team. The spear struck Ajax from the chariot, imbedded in his torso. His vision bleary, he gazed resignedly at Trottingrain wending off into the depths of the woods with the ruins of his chariot spattered in his wake.

Moments later, it was Nightingswift that found the body of his satyr lord. With the strength left in him, the satyr had bound himself to a young oak tree with his battle garments so that he may die on his hooves rather than being laid in defeat on the forest floor. The dumb horse remained with him till his last breath and in the latter part of the evening Granitegale espied the wounded and feeble stallion collapse in a heap upon the beach at the shores of the woods that can be seen from Cair Paravel. He knew then, that Ajax had met his death that day because Nightingswift would not have forsaken him otherwise. So he announced this to the satyr people and they grieved to know that their prophesy had come true; that that day in the woods north of Cair Paravel, three king's fates fell upon them; Trufflestripe, king of the charioteers, Nightingswift, king of the horses, and Ajax, king of the satyr warriors had passed beyond the sunrise.

**-0-**

**Authour's Note: The idea of the 'three kings' (the greatest charioteer, horse and warrior) I got from the story of The Hound of Ulster by Rosemary Sutcliff and she describes the story as the 'Beowulf' legend of the Irish and Scottish people. Of course I had to alter it to fit into this fanfic. The warrior Cuchulain (had the blood of the Lordy ones/Fairy Folk being son of the Celtic Sun God) was the Champion of Ulster and died opposing the armies of Ireland's southern counties and dealt with bards in his last battle in the same manner as Ajax did when hags demended his spear. Cuchulain's spear was called 'Gael Boag' he was slain with his own spear as well. If you ever have a chance to read it you I'd recommend it, but I felt I had to mention it because it was not solely an idea I thought up and neither is it of C.S. Lewis's ideas.**


	8. 8 A Lawn is for Dancing On

**A lawn for is for dancing on!**

The aftermath of the battle with the sea horde was not a sight for squirrel eyes to look upon. Pattertwig and Thistlefur walked with tails facing Cair Paravel and talked to keep their mind from dwelling on horrors that came unbidden to their minds; the memories of that day's battle that haunted them.

"I do wonder, my dear lassie doe, if Reepicheep is on his footpaws yet. Do you think he is?"

Thistlefur hung her head wearily, walking on all fours with her ears wilting, drooping almost to the ground, "I suppose you will find out when you get back."

Pattertwig took a few moments to realize what she was implying, "Aren't you coming?"

The hare only shook her head languidly, "Well why not soppy chops!" The squirrel bounded in front of her to try and catch her pearly eyes, but she avoided meeting his curious gape, "Was it some thing I said? Something about your ears?"

They stopped walking and she said resolutely "No, my mind has been tormented with the keening for wasted past adventures that I have left forsaken and unfulfilled. I am bound for the land of Archenland." The perplexed squirrel was lost for words, "Arch-Archenland!"

"'twas the place that Tuttuerbrush and I spoke so aspiringly of with each other for years. We could not pursue our dream because we were bound by honour to serve Granitegale, but now my rider is gone I am free from any bonds of loyalty to the Warlord and to the order of the Burrowlance Riders."

Pattertwig seemed genuinely concerned, "Are you alright? Did you have a bounce too hard for your bonce when I wasn't looking?"

She resisted him indignantly as he made to inspect between her ears, "I'm serious! I don't want to stay in this place, there are too many rankling memories! I yearn to pursue the evil mouse that slew Tutterbrush and serve him justice, my shame grows greater for every minute that I know that somewhere he still lives, yet I loathe to see any more spilling of blood. I must leave this land, at least for a while! We both -"

She stopped, assuming Pattertwig was listening to her, only to find him a small way off nattering with some other beast she didn't recognise at first. She loped up to them irately and came between them. "Don't you care what I have to say?"

"Oh yes I heard you Thistle-mah-dear-lassie-fur! You are going to Archenland because of your happy memories of spilling suds over a weasel's house and serving him crusted butternuts with a brush, I know, I know! But I had to stop this young hedgey-hog bounder from brainin' himself! He was tryin' to crack a hazelnut with a big rock, have you ever heard the like of it?" He pointed accusingly at a sturdy young hedgehog grappling with a hefty lump of rock.

Thistlefur shooed him away from it, "Oi, don't try and lift that!"

"I'm try'n to cracker this'n here nut the ould olwer giv'n me, what you especk me to do?" the hedgehog retorted huffily. In a twinkling Pattertwig offered the unshelled nut to the hedgehog and the young beast devoured it appreciatively.

"Thanker you ould squirreler! I'm going ter ask that'n owler if'n he has any more!"

The hedgehog turned his spikes on the confounded pair and made for a clump of conifers thick with rhododendrons.

"So, mah warhare chum, your decision is for definite?"

Thistlefur sat up tall and looked longingly south to the distant mountain range, in the pose that hares often do when scouting the land about them, with her ears filled with the breeze like two sizeable sails. "Beyond the southern mountains, they say, there lies Archenland. I have heard it whispered by the winds that flow from the south that men still rule there, and that it is a land where peace reigns. If you ever loved me, Pattertwig, as my friend and as my rider, you won't object against me going to where my heart longs to be."

Pattertwig became ever so sullen and his words fell from his mouth laden with a somber tone, "If that is so, then I beseech you, fair lassie doe, as a friend and as your rider, go to where your heart aches to go and be ever happy in that land on the other side of the mountains!"

A sparkle of mirth resounded in her voice, "And I beseech you, o' gluttonous tree-jumper, go and tell Reepicheep of the honour you have won from this day's battle for I think he cannot deny you your knighthood." Pattertwig mulled over the thing she just said.

"Well, eh, I am staying here though the stars begin to fall and bring the sky down with them, and though the tides may rise and Narnia be over swum by fishes, and though Granitgale may set all of our brushes on fire with his conflagration of a temper, here is he place of trees that I abide with."

"But come with me to Archenland, there will be trees aplenty there!" argued Thistlefur, but Pattertwig was not convinced. He pointed at the southern mountains,

"I jolly well doubt it Wonderears! If I were a tree, I would never bury my roots anywhere near those rocky monstrosities!"

Thistlefur merited him a questionable look, "Are you sure that _you_ did not have a bounce too hard for _your_ bonce?"

"Quite sure! Never worry about me Thistlefur, just you have yourself a frollicking good time in Archenland."

And with that said Thistlefur fondled him, and he her, and they bid the fondest farewells to eachother, both with fervant wishes to meet again one day. So they parted ways, the warhare Thistlefur south for Archenland, and the squirrel Pattertwig west for the place of the Stone Table with hopes of seeing Reepicheep well again.

**-0-**

Reepicheep set out alone, eventually coming across fields of wild flowers where the summer breezes blew strong, bearing dandelion seeds far and wide, all airborne with fluffy parachutes. The sunlight enriched the natural landscape, punctuating the colours of everything the mouse set his eye upon and the air was a wealth of pungent fragrances. The heat of the sun warmed the grass beneath his footpaws and the heat waves rose from under him as they carried the grassy scent to his nose and as the mouse breathed deeply he sensed the a sweet tinge of flower pollen adrift with the wind.

He paused to admire the industrious honey bees that drifted indiscriminately from purple fairy foxgloves to harebells, from cornflowers to buttercups, from red corn poppies to white and pink columbines and to any cheerful flowers that attracted the nectar coveting insects.

He wondered briefly what may have become of Pattertwig and was humoured by the memory of some of his antics.

Suddenly, a bird whooshed by over Reepicheep's head, almost brushing his ears with its wings tips, and landed a stone's throw away from him.

Reepicheep advanced on the bird, now alighted on a sward of clover, "Fie on you bird! You almost hit me!"

As he approached he seen that it was a dainty little swift with dark brown plumage, and as he came closer still he espied a large red feather that it had in its beak. Reepicheep groped about his naked head frantically to make a distressful discovery: the swift had seized the feather from him!

"Thief! Give back my feather!" he demanded, and charged the roguish creature that hopped out of his reach as he dived to grasp it in this handpaws. Once again it took to the air and flew not more than a stone's throw away before landing on the field again, and again Reepicheep tried in vain to retrieve the feather from the swift. The chase continued in much the same manner for a while until Reepicheep became very flustered and thirsty and it began to seem very appealing to abandon his feather to the bird's possession.

The wildflower fields ended abruptly and gave leave to the fringes of a bright deciduous wood where he seen the swift retreat to. "That thieving little wing-rat! It's probably taken my feather to its nest up in a tree." thought Reepicheep. So he strode into the wood to see if he could spy the swift's nest among the canopy.

Not long was it before he started searching the foliage aloft that he found a peculiar pinewood plank set upon a stake that protruded from the mossy loam which came just short of his own height. He saw that there were letters carved into the wood that he scrutinised studiously. Try as he might, he could not interpret the verse's meaning,

**NO GNICNAD ROF SI NWAL A**

**SELOH NI EDIBA SELOM SA EURT SA TUB**

**NWAF A YNAM ROF DNUORG GNICNARP EHT ;SDLEIF**

**NOY DNA REHTIH PALF STENNAG STSAOC EHT RE'O**

**NOPU KLAW STSAEB SHTAP NO**

"By the Lion, if only I'd one with me to tell me the message of this sign that eludes me so!"

So after a while and a while he abandoned his efforts and the matter for getting his red feather back came back to him with immediate urgence. He ambled betwixt the forest pillars scanning the canopy above till suddenly there was no more tree branches or leaves but only the blue summer sky. Reepicheep had stumbled upon a grassy clearing hidden in the woods.

The ground was carpeted with nothing but the softest of grass. This may sound perfectly mundane, but Reepicheep considered it a rare sight indeed, solely because of the complete lack of any flowers or weeds and because of its utter flatness.

Suddenly, he was almost overwhelmed with relief for there upon the grass was his lonely red feather which stood out like a ladybird in a daisy patch. He took it from the grass and put it back to its rightful place behind his ear.

"Hurr moi guderness! Whoi bee'n ee noiwt dancing, zurr?"

A stub-nosed mole had popped out from earth from under Reepicheep, startling him with his abrupt appearance,

"I beg you pardon! Dancing? Why would I be dancing?" Reepicheep gasped, catching his breath and regaining his nerve. The mole remained in his hole so that he was only half-way emerged from the earth, resting his handpaws on the grass.

"Burr, daont ee moice read moi soign over yurr? Ee lawn bees for a-dancing on!"

Reepicheep was not wont to argue with the mole because he struggled understanding his strong brogue so went on his way, back the way he came to the fringe of the wood.

"Ach lea'e the fellow be Wilnoe, he's doing no harm." hollered a mousemaid at the mole, who appeared into the sunlight from the dimmer area of the wood.

"Burr hurr, that mouse noiwt bee reading moi soign an' now ee noiwt bee knowing that ee lawn bees for dancing on! Albeasts bee knowing that surely!"

"Not all beasts can read your crazy signs. If I told ye once, I've told ye a hundred times, every beast reads from the top down!"

"Not us molers! We're noiwt gurtly fond ee hoights, no zurr!"

The mousemaid approached the Reepicheep who was bemused by the mole's unintelligible ranting.

"Hello there laddie! Get off the grass or Wilnoe will ha'e ye! If any beast sets footpaw upon Dancing Lawn and isn't dancing, or with a mirthful spring in their step, you can bet your best whisker Wilnoe will know!"

"Worry not, maiden, I don't intend to linger here any longer." he said indignantly, passing her by. Wilnoe the mole watched as Reepicheep step finally off the flawless grass then retreated back underground to his subterranean abode.

"Ach, don't be like that!" said the mousemaid, "Stay for a wee cup of fennel tea or some damson cordial won't ye? Go on, ye will!"

Reepicheep looked over his shoulder at the mousemaid, "I really must be on my way, but-"

"Ye will! Gi'e me your big shield there and have a wee seat by the daffodils o'er yonder." insisted the mousemaid. She took his shield from him and ushered him over to the spot by the daffodils where she placed it nearby. There were some wooden benches and tables where a company of rabbits were dining in the shade.

"Ne'er mind this snoddy lot, grab a wee seat till I get the tea and damson cordial." Reepicheep was keen to be on his way but he obliged to the mousemaid's hospitality.

The rabbits greeted him warmly, "Good day traveller. Would you care for a grass muffin or two? I say, they go down well with the ol' carrot juice. Mmh, simply scrumptious! What about you dear?"

"Oh my, I think I shall treat myself to second helping. Mmh, yes I say, I'm a bit naughty today. I'll be as plump as ol' Wilnoe if I keep this nibbling up! Oh ha-ha-ha! I say!"

Reepicheep remained impassive as the rabbits chattered between quaffs of carrot juice and mouthfuls of grass muffin and found himself longing for the mousemaid to return because he felt very ill at ease with the prissy creatures.

His wait was not as long as it seemed, for in a trice the mousemaid arrived laden with an artfully decorated set of steaming cups and a large teapot, setting it between them on the table. "You'll ha'e to forgi'e me my lad, we're all out of damson cordial! I suspect those moles ha'e tunnelled into the cellars again to _'sample'_ my cordials. I hope my fennel tea is sufficient."

Reepicheep ventured his first glace at the mousemaid's face and realised that he had never seen a prettier mouse in his life, nearly stifling his reply, "Never worry, fennel tea is my favourite. But whom, pray tell, is it I have the honour of being guest to?"

Reepicheep sipped the tea gratefully, the heat smarting his lips briefly, "Oh bother, with all this fuss about tea and cordial I've forgotten my courtesy altogether! I am Heathricheep, the flower nurse of Dancing Lawn. As ye can see, there are no flowers on Dancing Lawn. That's because any flower who happens to sprout from the glorious lawn is taken in to my care, away from the trampling hooves of the dancing fauns and satyrs who come to dance here as they please."

"Heathricheep," her name reminded him of the sweet flowers in the fields he passed through earlier and he felt warm, as if the sun was shining inside him, "that's an admirable name. I am Sir Reepicheep. It is an honour to meet you. "

The mousemaid had emptied her cup and was now filling it with more piping hot tea as she spoke from behind a shroud of rising wisps of steam. "Ah, thank ye, you're most kind. But I heard that Granitegale and his knights ha'e gone east to battle at Cair Para'el, did you not go with them?"

Reepicheep seethed at the mention of Granitegale's name, "Nay Heathricheep, I do not serve murderers or poltroons."

"Ach, surely the Warlord does not deserve such names! Ye belittle your chi'alrous title with such words! Kind words and hard knocks, is that not the way of a knight?" retorted the mousemaid.

"Not even the Kings of Old could have spoken kindly about Granitgale, for he has slain the Stewards of Narnia in cold blood and has sided with beings of evil magic. And if it were not for the wisdom Gladebreeze gave me, Granitegale would be having his fill of hard knocks this very moment." The mousemaid was horrified, and Reepicheep caught the gleam of tears in her eyes, her tender face became sorrowful like snowdrops that grow in springtime. She almost breathed her words, dropping her cup clattering upon the table,

"Its true that some think nought of tears and bloodshed." Reepicheep instantly knew where he heard those words before,

"She spoke with you as well?" And Reepicheep spoke in earnest, relating all that Gladebreeze said to him, but they sounded only like a rhyme or a poem to Heathricheep, and as much as she liked poetry, she couldn't grasp it's importance as Reepicheep did. "But what did she tell to you Heathricheep? Did she foretell this?" The mousemaid seemed reluctant to reveal her story to the Reepicheep,

"She told me…other things…secret things. I can't remember, but where does her counsel send you? What is the place 'where light does teem?'"

"I'm bound for the place in my dream, the place with the iron pillar that shines with living light." the mousemaid's face contorted as she thought deeply,

"Ye mean the Lantern Waste? Is it the lamppost ye speak of?"

"Yes, the very place." replied Reepicheep, "But I'm at a loss as to where it lies. The forests of the west are vast and I don't know them well."

She smiled knowingly, "That shall not be a problem, laddie! Ye but only have to wait till late e'ening, and your guide you shall have!"

**-0-**

And thus it was that, for a time, Pattertwig was a lone squirrel again, or so he thought as he witnessed Thistlefur go beyond the reaches of his sight,

"Looks like 'tis only me and my faithful ould brush once again! Ye follow me everywhere I go like a true friend should do, don't you!" he bantered to himself.

He struck up a brisk walk to get his footpaws on the go, pattering towards the deciduous woods where a river was evidently concealed, for it sang out it boisterous melody to call to every beast within earshot. And Pattertwig, filled with the fervour of joyous memories that the sight of the trees summoned up, he sang a song that his uncle taught him when he went foraging to stock up for winter,

"Pattery, Pattery, Pattery-twig,

He scoffs acorns and walnuts served raw!

Pattery, Pattery, Pattery-twig,

Seek his stash and he'll give ye war!

Of a better forager there is not one,

Along and up tree terraces he'll hop,

He'll never be bally well done

Till the forests are bare to the last tree top!"

How brilliant it will be to be among the trees once more, thought Pattertwig heading for the clump of conifers. "Haaay you mister squirreleeer!" bawled some beast dashing from the woods ahead. Pattertwig saw it was the young hedgehog from before.

"Settle yourself you rowdy rascal of a pin-cushion! What's all this hollering about?"

The hedgehog commenced a garrulous ramble, "I'm notter no pinner-cushon, I'm Snuffle Bilbram, nice'n ter meetcha! An' that'n er big owler is being greatlier sick! He' just lying on'er the ground and makin' funnier noisers an' won't answer me when I'er start askin'em stuff an' er-!"

"Why don't you just leave Mister _Owler _be! Big birds will scoff you right and quick you know, if you pluck them the wrong way and owls don't like to be plucked at all I can tell you!" lectured Pattertwig in a very grown up manner, which irritated Snuffle considerably,

"But I want'r get more nut'rs off'em, an if'n he's hurted he can't get me any!" And at said that Pattertwig scuttled headlong into the woods, not waiting for the hedgehog. The blithe squirrel scurried up to the lofty canopy with the shield upon his back and covered distance faster than he could ever do on the forest floor, leaping and bounding from tree boughs with his footpaws beating along the shadowy terraces sending him swiftly like a leaf in the wind.

Just as Pattertwig was getting his natural feel for his long neglected acrobatic skills up in the trees, his inquisitive instincts were aroused by something that caught his eye.

What he had first dismissed as a tree stump or a fallen branch protruding from the littered forest floor, he quickly realised it was some kind of animal, and eventually assumed that it was the owl that Snuffle the hedgehog was rambling about.

The owl remained there motionless, as still as the surrounding pines and foliage. Suddenly there was a rustling beneath a clump of brambles close by the slumbering owl. The malevolent head of a serpent appeared from the shadows and at the sight of the diamond-back of its slithering body, Pattertwig dashed down the nearest tree trunk shouting, to no avail, for the owl to wake.

As Pattertwig charged the serpent, who was honing in on the unsuspecting owl still in his dreamland, he frantically seized a fallen yew branch and assailed the snake before it could deliver its venomous bite to the owl.

In a twinkling the panicky episode was over. The serpent lay limp on the ground from Pattetwig's blow on the head, poleaxed.

"Whoo? Whoo?" the owl eventually roused from his sleep bewildered, "You tree-mouse yoo! What's all the hubbub?"

"By the Lion! You're the finest dozer ever I clapped my bally eyes on!" blurted Pattertwig, "That stink-frog thought it was his birthday, he did! He would have made enough tucker out of you to last him a couple of seasons!"

The owl fluttered his wings and puffed his brown, speckled feathers at the sight of the serpent, beating gusts air over Pattertwig, "Watch out yooou tree-mouse! Oooh big snake beside yooou!"

The owl never settled again until Pattertwig heaved and bundled the snake back into the bushes, only then was the owl convinced all was safe.

"Oooh thank you greatly tree-mouse! You are a real owl's pal, 'tis truuue! 'Tis truue!" he hooted appreciatively.

Pattertwig threw his handpaws up in despair, "Have been dozing all your life or what! Didn't your mother ever point you out a squirrel? Why were you sleeping down here on the floor anyway? Where's your home?"

The owl spoke frankly, "I must have just dozed off. Beasts shouldn't be awake at such hours even if there's a battle! Its all hooorribly bright and it just isn't right I tell yooou! My home is near to Dancing Lawn, and there are squirrels like yooou there, I just didn't recognise you in all of this hooorrid daylight!"

The name of Dancing Lawn seemed familiar to Pattertwig, "Dancing Lawn, is'nt that near to the Stone Table?"

"Whoo? Oh that place! There are strange happening goooing on there! I never goooed by that place in a while. Not many trees, 'tis truuue!"

Pattertwig related to how the owl felt, "I never liked it either, you're a wise ould hooter not to like that place. But my mouse-friend is there and I go to seek him out."

"Oooh the best of luck then! As soon as the mooon rises it's off to Dancing Lawn with me again. All the beasts there will want to knoooow the news about the battle. Cooome I say, cooome with me then. Wings are swifter that paws, 'tis truuue, 'tis truuue!"

Pattertwig considered the offer briefly, "Awfully descent of you to think of an ould tree-jumper like myself, but have you ever heard of a flying squirrel? Because I haven't and I'm certainly not one!"

"Oooh but yooou can hop upon my back and I can dooo all of the flapping and flying!"

"Pattertwig the flying squirrel! Fancy that! Say, what's your name my feathered chum? Its not often a squirrel can call an owl that in these times, don't you think?"

The owl nodded in agreement, "'Tis truuue indeed! I'm Gumblefeather, 'tis truuue, 'tis truuue!"

"Well you are a very honest fellow, Gumblefeather; you never seem to say anything that isn't true. I'm Pattertwig, a bally well pleasure to meet you!"

The pair of them waited for evening to come in the glade, also accompanied by Snuffle Bilbram who eventually arrived, and the trio nattered the day away. Gumblefeather drifted off to sleep any time he was excluded momentarily from the conversation and couldn't tell by the end of it weather he dreamt it all or if the meeting actually took place. But as the moon took its place in the night sky, Gumblefeather started out to Dancing Lawn with Pattertwig clinging to his on his back. And if Pattertwig ever enjoyed anything as much as that flight I could not tell you, but all he seen was the stars above him and blackness below and all he knew was the harshly cold air flowing through his fur and that Gumblefeather was the only thing between him and the furtive depths of shadows below.

**-0-**

The steady glare of the moon bestowed a silver-white hue upon the place of Dancing Lawn. Wilnoe had predicted one of the most serene times the lawn had seen since the coming of the summer season, mainly because practically all of the satyrs and fauns who were wont to dance vehemently into the early hours of the morning had answered to Granitegale's call to meet the threat upon the eastern shores.

The lawnbabes (that is the infant beasts of Dancing Lawn) who dwelt thereabouts took the rare opportunity to occupy the lawn in their absence, thus bringing the still silence to an end. At first, filtering into the moonlight one by one, the majority of them were spurred onto the lawn to keep themselves from being ushered off to their bed by their mothers, but soon they were filled with the gaiety that spread contagiously from creature to creature as they took part in improvised singing and reeling and they wished that the merry-making would never end. One fox cubs even got hold of a dwarf drum and made a tuneless racket, but they all took it in good fun. It was all much to Wilnoe's approval who egged them on, sitting on the threshold of his hole whooping and clapping his handpaws.

Reepicheep's heart almost melted as he watched Heathricheep frolicking with the young beasts. He stood enchanted, listening to the rhymes and songs that they sang in time with their dancing,

_A-twirling rings round flowerbeds_

_In spring he follows his nose!_

_A-plenty o' sweet honey we're fed_

_If we follow him where he goes!_

_A-droning all the summer season_

_In the places where colours grow,_

_A-bustling about in his busy hive,_

_There's no livelier beast I know!_

_A-blustering goes the frosty winds!_

_O' autumn and winter is not for him!_

_A-wonder where bumbling Humble has gone?_

_O' without his humming the flowers are grim!_

_~0~_

_Sing-o'-ring-o'-raindrops,_

_Giv'em a lovely big drink!_

_Trees-o'-green-are-thirsty,_

_"Water me, water me quick!"_

_Sing-o'-ring-o'-raindrops_

_Run an' tumble'em down the rocks!_

_Trickle-a-little-ol' rivulet,_

_Fresh from the mountain tops!_

_~0~_

_Hi, o' mother o' have you seen_

_The awful sight, the distressful scene!_

_'Tis worse than a hedgehog without spikes,_

_Worse than swimmin' in a pool wi' pikes,_

_Worse than apple pies without cream,_

_And worse than Turkish delight coloured green!_

_I don't know why or who's to blame,_

_But I've seen a Lion without a mane!_

_~0~_

It was then as though a massive body of feathers had fallen from the awning black abyss. Gumblefeather landed on the lawn stirring great plumes of air that rushed the revelling creatures, and off his back tumbled a red squirrel, laying himself asprawl upon the sward.

"Oh joy, it's the creature of truth himself! Welcome home Gumblefeather!" proclaimed Heathricheep and all the lawnbabes greeted him fondly.

"Very goood t'be back! Truuuely! I missed yooou all!" hooted Gumblefeather. Pattertwig staggered to his footpaws and narrowed his eyes at the baffled Reepicheep, "By the Lion! Fancy seeing you here Sir Reep!" he said swelling his chest and sketching a salute.

"Pattertwig! Just look at you! Not a week ago your brush was wanted by all the birds along the length of the Rushafell River, and now you fly with owls and…what's this? Your own shield? And a fine one at that!" said Reepicheep most admiringly. Pattertwig felt undeserving of Reepicheep's praises, "Oh I picked this ol' thing up from a warhare chum of mine, a fine lassie doe she was too! I accompanied her as her rider to the battle upon the shores. Slingin' stones and fightin' stink-toads and what not, you know the usual bally fighting caper, not my type of thing!"

Reepicheep gave him a congratulatory pat about his back, "Oh, that simply won't do for an account of a battle at all! I want to hear _all_ about it! It's good to see you are still your sprightly self anyway, good squirrel!"

So Pattertwig gave his very modest recollection of the battle that took place at Cair Paravel, and Gumblefeather reinforced Pattertwig's account with a bit more accuracy, including how Pattertwig had saved his life, till all the listeners had a good idea of the goings-on at that time.

All of the lawnbabes were led off to their beds in their burrows and trees until only Gumblefeather, Heathricheep, Pattertwig and Reepicheep remained by Dancing Lawn deep in conversation. Even Wilnoe had retired for the night now that no beast was left for his amusement.

"Well it's good ye both made it here alright, ye can thank Ara'ir's luck for that!" said Heathricheep, petting the owl's wing feathers, "Gumblefeather, my truthful owl, the mouse laddie needs your help."

Gumblefeather's hugely saucer-like eyes seemed to inflate as he set them inquiringly upon Reepicheep, "Oooh, how so? I'd be very glad! What dooo y'need squirrel-friend?"

The owl's intimidating gape was almost stifling to Reepicheep as he spoke, "But only hear me out first, kind owl. I'm sure you are weary from your flight. There is a place I wish to go, but I know not how to get there or where this place lies."

The sagely owl's speech became very matter-of-fact, "Sooo long as this place has a nocturnal face and proves truuue to be home to some aged trees, I shall take yooou there."

"Ach, sure ye know the place better than yer own feathers!" Heathricheep began to chaff, "It's the wee place with the lamppost he wants to go. We all know how ye love going there ye big glutton!"

Reepicheep could have burst with elation, "You know of the place? Where light teems from the iron pillar like rainfall in summer and blooms with life like that of the trees?"

Gumblefeather ruffled his feathers restlessly, "Oooh! I've never heard it described like that! But a beast will never go hungry in that place, 'tis truuue!"

Pattertwig perked up his ears and the owl had his full attention, "Really? Vittles aplenty and lots of bally tucker, eh?"

The owl tilted his head curiously, "Vittles and tuckers? I don't knooow booout those, but there's always moths to be found there! Pooossibly the juiciest and tastiest specimens in all of Narnia!" Pattertwig's face became the picture of disappointment.

Heathricheep came bearing Reepicheep's shield, "Didn't I tell ye I'd sort ye out with a guide? I look after ye! Now there is still plenty of moonlight left this night so I'm sure Gumblefeather would be happy to set out within the hour. What do ye say Gumblefeather? Just think of all those tasty moths!"

The owl wriggled with delight at the thought and was as keen as Reepicheep to set out. They all exchanged farewells to Heathricheep and she watched Gumblefeather hop-skip into the night with Reepicheep and Pattertwig following close behind amongst the shadow of the trees.

The flower nurse of Dancing Lawn felt no weariness about her that night, so she lay asprawl in the middle of the lawn and watched the stars fade as the light of dawn swept stealthily across the sky.

**-0-**

**Author's note**: I wonder where I got the idea about Patterwig's foraging song....

"Rakkety Rakkety Rakkety Tam

The drums are beatin' braw!

Rakkety Rakket Rakkety Tam

Are ye marchin' off tae war?"

~ by Brian Jaques from "Rakkety Tam" A tale of Redwall

(My second most favourite squirrel)


	9. 9 Talking Trees and Rustling Leaves

**Talking Trees and Rustling Leaves**

_~0~ Winds do vary from gales to breeze,_

_Blowing high and low over lands and seas,_

_But never's the like when it flows through trees,_

_For as tree spirits speak it's but rustling of leaves_

_So for once you'll know what to each other they say_

_For it will help me telling this chapter this today! ~0~_

Now I've been told by a little bird, the singing Nightingale,

That there's a place amid the woods where trees tell many a tale.

She sang of the Silver Birch, the one with the voice like showers.

She's one like a slender girl with hair blown about her face wont to dance for hours and hours.

The Oak Tree is the wizened one, hearty and wise with many years,

And he looks like a shaggy old man with wart-riddled hands and with a frizzled beard.

The Beech Tree is the lady of the wood, apparently 'the best of all,'

The smooth and stately goddess whose grace leaves all enthralled.

Melancholy are the Elms, less cheerful to look upon than the rest,

Gloomier than a Marshwiggle, from them don't hold your breath for a jest.

Then there is the dark Holly, his wife all aglow with red berries,

And the gay Rowan whose very name should be' Happy' or 'Merry.'

The nightingale's song lacks a lilt when she tells of the Weeping Willow,

She veils her brooding face with her hair remaining clandestine and mellow.

But never mind what I have heard, do you even believe in talking birds?

Go now to this place of trees and say these specific words:

**"Oh, Trees, Trees, Trees,**

**Oh, Trees, wake, wake, wake.**

**Don't you remember it? Don't you remember **_**me**_**?**

**Dryads and Hamadryads, come out, come to me."**

~0~

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'Sing-o'-ring-o'-raindrops, Giv'em a lovely big drink!'

ROWAN VERYGREEN: 'Trees-o'-green-are-thirsty, "Water me, water me quick!"'

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'Sing-o'-ring-o'-raindrops, Run an' tumble'em down the rocks!'

ROWAN VERYGREEN: 'Trickle-a-little-ol' rivulet, Fresh from the mountain tops!'

ELMOR GLOOPAROOT: 'Ohh bother your raucous leaf-bustling, you are making me very thirsty! _Burr, gurr,_ _grumble_! '

ROWAN VERYGREEN: 'Cheer up, cheer up, oh, Glooparoot you! We're only singing a song, join in, join in you too!

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'Tee-hee! You live by a river don't you see? Have some water then we can sing the lawnbabe's rhyme with voice's three!

ELMOR GLOOPAROOT: 'Ohh no, never! Too much rustling is bad for the leaves! Mayhaps then in winter _burr_- _grumble, grumble!'_

GRANDMOTHER WILLOW: 'What good is a cheerful song if it only makes one gloomy?'

OLDMAN OAK: 'The day is still young, hardly the time for such mirthful tunes; I have yet to splay my blossoms! The sun is likely to have shone generously on ones of such sprightly demeanour!'

ROWAN VERYGREEN: 'Oh 'tis grand, 'tis grand to hear how your blossoms fare! Bloom, yes, bloom, yes while you can, for in Winter you'll be bare!

LADY BEECH: 'Oh hear the truth of the Rowan, he speaks truer than the sun is bright! There was never a finer day to call to insects all in flight!

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'The lawnbabes! They sang of bees as well! I wonder if they have a song about butterflies to tell?'

THE HOLLY COUPLE: 'Yes we heard it all through the night!'

_'We missed their dancing, just imagine the sight!'_

'We saw the knight, the branch-hopper and the Lawn's owl!'

_'I heard they're off west to the Lantern Waste, I wonder where they are now?'_

GRANDMOTHER WILLOW: 'How much does a mouse's, a squirrel's and an owl's story matter?

THE HOLLY COUPLE: 'I beg your pardon; we didn't intend to bore you!'

_'No dear, I think she means us to talk about another creature's fortune.'_

'Well what of the mouse in the Western Wilds, a tale worth bustling leaves?

_'Sprout me anew! How did we forget that rodent and the children of Adam and Eve?_

THE NIGHTINGALE: 'Twee! I told them. Twee! I did!'

ELMOR GLOOPAROOT: 'Indeed we suffered enough of the bird's song, trilling about evil centaurs and rouge outlaws and warrior men – _grumble, grumble!_

LADY BEECH: 'And well told it was! A bard of the kings could not hope to have done better than you sweet Nightingale may your songs last forever!'

THE NIGHTINGALE: 'Twee, thankee! Thankee!'

OLDMAN OAK: 'The Nightingale sang to us of humans who came from somewhere beyond the mountains of the west, harrying our cousins, who make the Western Wilds their home, with their cruel axes! They pile them when they are fallen and set fire upon them like wolves to devour their quarry!

GRANDMOTHER WILLOW: 'Is it certain that their deeds are nothing but wanton?'

ELMOR GLOOPAROOT: _'Grumble, burr, grumble! _There's no doubt they came to turn us all to ashes for the sheer fun of it!'

LADY BEECH: 'Nay, they came in search of a peaceful abode, I'm sure. 'Twas only in the latter that they ravaged with hateful fervour.'

GRANDMOTHER WILLOW: 'Can the actions of one mouse stir up a storm from a light drizzle?'

THE HOLLY COUPLE: 'The one called Badmouse, he rallied his outlaw band!'

_'They raided and plundered like corsairs upon shoreline land!'_

'They slew peaceful humans, women and children alike.'

_'They valued spoils of battle more than any creature's life.'_

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'What kind of horrid little beasts are they? Send them here to any grove or glade and they'll see how falling branches can slay!

ROWAN VERYGREEN: 'Be angry not, angry not, you with voice of showers! For when all other joy is gone, joy is gone, let yours keep blooming among wilting flowers!'

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'My anger always leads to tears like the raindrops. First furious, then ending calm like the rivers flowing from the mountaintops.'

OLDMAN OAK: 'Granitegale the centaur goes to seek peace with those humans from the west. He believes that he goes to meet a peaceful colony of sheepish folk, easy to negotiate with. But after the bad sampling that the humans have received from our land's creatures at the handpaws of Badmouse, the Warlord will meet but a truculent people with no intention of parlay with Narnian warriors.

GRANDMOTHER WILLOW: 'Those who set out to beleaguer, who are battle seasoned and impassioned with glory-lusting zeal, do they even see the existing silhouette of peace on the crimson horizon when opportunity for battle dawns like day?

THE NIGHTINGALE: 'Graneeglaee! I tellee you trees!'

LADY BEECH: 'And Gladebreeze foretold this to be so. If only beasts so keen of ear considered what they hear and thought about what they know.'

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'Yes our centaur maiden friend! There are no shards of shattered hope that she cannot mend!

THE HOLLY COUPLE: 'She reads the stars as if they were a book!'

_'The stars tell her all, the oldest folk to the night sky forsook!'_

'They know all what's happened since the beginning of time!'

_'But how can they tell the future? They're always sparkling so sublime!'_

GLADEBREEZE: 'Winds do vary from gales to breeze, blowing high and low over lands and seas, but never's the like when it flows through trees, for when tree spirits speak it's but rustling of leaves.'

ROWAN VERYGREEN: 'Oh, so sublime, so sublime, as we speak of such things! Oh, 'tis her, 'tis her, 'tis beauty Gladebreeze brings!

LADY BEECH: 'Fair greetings to you, oh wisest of maidens! Come and lie in our shade and free yourself of any weariness you are laden!'

GLADEBREEZE: 'My thanks to you, most courteous of trees. My soul is content among all you by this enchanted glade of glee!'

THE HOLLY COUPLE: _'You're as welcome as rain is to flowers,'_

'After a season of drought in morning's last hour.'

_'As welcome as water is in the sea.'_

'And as welcome as my red berried wife is with me.'

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'You are always so very fair to see, that dress would not be as pretty on me!'

GRANDMOTHER WILLOW: 'What has four legs and talks like a tree?'

GLADEBREEZE: 'Oh, Grandmother Willlow, your riddle's answer's me!'

ROWAN VERYGREEN: 'The Willow Lady, she jests, she jests! If my ears betray me not, betray me not you have brought out her best!'

OLDMAN OAK: 'Its good to look upon you Gladebreeze again, you with the wisdom from the stars. I have never known you for idle conversation, especially with us tree spirits, though garrulous folk we can be.'

ELMOR GLOOPAROOT: 'Do not spare us the distressful forecast that is before all. Most likely the rain will never fall again and the sun will fall into eternal sleep below the horizon, do I not speak truly?'

GLADEBREEZE: 'Pray that your words fall only on deaf ears! Unwisely the tempting of fate is not among your fears!'

LADY BEECH: 'Mind Elmor not for he means not what he says. 'Tis only his way of asking what is for us in later days.'

SILVER SHOWERVOICE: 'Is it really true, all that you know? Can you predict tomorrow's sunrise colour or whose hand in marriage I will hold?'

THE HOLLY COUPLE: 'What do the stars tell about the Holly trees?'

_'We are green all year round so take your time as you please.'_

'But not too long for we have lots of growing to do!'

_'Awk, please! I produce the most berries so give over you!'_

OLDMAN OAK: 'Silence all...Gladebreeze we beseech you, would you kindly speak?'

GRANDMOTHER WILLOW: 'Do the stars have the answers they seek?'

GLADEBREEZE: 'I cannot put forth questions to stars as they play upon the night sky but I'll tell you all what they had to say…

The mouse with the newfound name,

Has roused hatred and fear in human hearts,

Goaded by power and cold to shame,

But now flees like an eagle-hunted lark.

Now it is in conflict with these humans

That Granitegale will be matched in might.

Only with a hundred years of war

Will his love for battle end its plight.

Upon the blood-sodden Western Wilds,

All Narnian Warriors will meet their end.

Talking beasts will cease to speak,

And traitor dwarves will live with men.

And when the men of Telmar

Are content with their newfound land.

They will encroach upon and throughout Narnia,

Until they reach Eastern shoreline sands.'

~0~

It was to Gladebreeze's disappointment that

The Dryads and Hamadryads went into themselves.

So it was alone in the tranquil glade that she sat

Unsure if anyone had listened to what she had to tell.

**AUTHOUR'S NOTE: **

**"Oh, Trees, Trees, Trees,**

**Oh, Trees, wake, wake, wake.**

**Don't you remember it? Don't you remember **_**me**_**?**

**Dryads and Hamadryads, come out, come to me."**

If you did not recognise this verse, it was what Lucy said when she was alone in the forest in Prince Caspian as she tried to remember what the trees were like when she lived in the Golden Age, so I did not write that it was C.S. LEWIS.

_**IMPORTANT NOTE ON STORYLINE SO FAR**__ -_ Okay, in this chapter I wanted to tie up a few loose ends of the story. After the battle at Cair Paravel between Granitegale's army, word about Granitegale and his army may have seemed practically nonexistent. This was an unintended result of trying to keep most of the story's focus on Pattertwig and Reepicheep, and an admitted flaw as a result of my inexperience in 'long' story writing. So just to keep things on track, it is important not to overlook this chapter because at this point of the story Granitegale and his army have already moved out to the Western Wilds after the robin's report of Men coming from beyond the Western Mountains (which was the message from "Wings of a Message."), and of course only after eliminating the more immediate threat of the 'Sea Vermin' in the battle that Pattertwig and Thistlefur fought at.

Basically, I made an attempt here to tell of the happenings upon the Western Wilds through the rumours of the trees talking in the forests. The mention of Badmouse (aka. Sir Rosensqueak) and how he and his newfound band of outlaws stirred up trouble with the Men who came from beyond the Mountains to the Western Wilds and spoiled any chance of peace that Granitegale may have had with the human newcomers.

Because the happenings upon the Western Wilds are not directly part of Reepicheep's story I am reluctant to put much focus on it, except only by the rumours and passed on word of the trees and creatures; the news they have heard of the Western Wilds and Granitegale's Army and so I intend to keep telling the story in this way. It is after all the story of _Reepicheep's_ Path of Knighthood. The coming of humans from Beyond the Western Mountians is irrelevant to Reepicheep's story until he actually crosses paths with one of them, don't you think? Oh good! Glad you agree! Now on with the story…


	10. 10 As Blind as an Owl

**As blind as an Owl**

The constellations of stars and the pale face of the moon that were festooned so brightly upon the sky just a nightingale's song ago were now faint with diminishing life. The blackness of night retreated to the shadows like ebbing waters of the ocean. Narnia had presented yet another new day freely to all creatures and none could show how grateful for it they were more than a consort of bullfinches who announced its coming with their fluting song,

'Trillee, trillee the sun I see,

East it rises every morneeen!

Trraloo, Trraloo, rainclouds are few

'Tis the sunniest day ever I kneeew!'

'I wish the leaves were brown on trees and full of juicy berries!' sang the one with the grey-buffed breast. Another promptly took up her tune, the bullfinch with red-plumed chest,

'And whence do we fly when the leaves they all die and are carried away by the breezes' sigh?'

'You speak of Winter then, is it truuue?' hooted another comparatively ungainly voice. The bullfinches peered owlishly at the strange creature who had so crudely spoiled their lilting tune and fluttered off, piercing the air with collective trilling,

'Owlee-lee-lee!' Their wingtips buffeted the surrounding leaves as they frantically dispersed and took off over the canopy.

Pattertwig appeared by Gumblefeather presently, 'Terrorising the songbirds I see! Poor sport, ould hooter. I'd never expect that from _you_!' Gumblefeather stifled a chuckle, and feigned an earnest expression,

'_Terrorising_ you say! Not I, honest and truuue!' Reepicheep came in the rear of the company. They slowed to a halt, taking in the sight of the forest in the new light. Without the birdsong the place would have seemed very quite to you or me, a very pleasant spot indeed, but warrior mice tend not to think like that,

'There is a river near here.' Reepicheep's companion's senses were roused by his practical conduct.

Gumblefeather proudly put his input on the matter, 'Ooh, yes! I knooowed there is. Not tooo worry Sir Reepicheep, I shall bear you both ooo'er the river one by one.' Pattertwig had no qualms with what Gumblefeather had proposed unlike Reepicheep,

'No disrespect Gumblefeather, but not on your mother's plumage would I fly with you. Such a thing among mouse folk is unheard of, that is: a mouse hopping upon an owl for a morning flight, or any kind of flight for that matter. I will find another way to ford the waterway.' Gumblefeather was very surprised at Reepicheep's adamant refusal. As Reepicheep took the lead of the company to be on their way again Gumblefeather hung back with Pattertwig, muttering to him in what the owl hoped was a whisper with his beak close to Pattertwig's ear,

'Ooh, what's wrong with the mouse fellooow, hoo-hoot. Even the lawnbabes never refuse a flight with me, hoo-hoot.' Pattertwig smiled sympathetically,

'Never mind Reepicheep. Mice, as you may know, have always been very independent creatures and are stubborn when accepting help from generous beasts such as your kind _owly_ self. I wouldn't take it to heart if I were you.'

Gumblefeather once more took the lead of the party with his airy hop-skip and quickened their pace. Any singing birds they happened to march past fled at the sight of the large owl. To see an owl at morningtide was a very rare sight for any of the small birds. Why was this creature of the night prowling through the forest at their prime time of song and merrymaking? Most likely it had turned its insatiable tastes from whatever sorry nocturnal creatures it normally preyed on to themselves! Never again will any songbird be safe to sing their wonderful morning melodies, they thought.

In a heartbeat they had come before the river and now stood by the water's edge. The water fleeted past them at an alarming speed, churning and boiling as it assailed the protruding rocks that resisted against the raving current. The mesmerising surface of the water made Pattertwig dizzy when he gave it more than a glance,

'How do you propose to cross this? Can't you make an exception just this once and let Gumblefeather fly us over there.' Pattertwig pointed to the other side of the river. He estimated that it was about fifty squirrel paces in breadth and beyond it there was not another tree in sight, but endless grassland as far as they could see from there. 'I hope you realise swimming is out of the question!'

'How so?' Reepicheep jested, but his companions missed the joke entirely. Pattertwig and Gumblefeather looked at each other with genuine concern. 'Didn't I ever tell you about how I used to race the salmon upstream? They are not the sharpest creatures that Aslan ever sung into creation, I tell you! Often they would stop to ask the bears for directions even though one could only go up or down the river! That's probably why I was the only one ever to finish the race.'

'You aren't swimming.' said Pattertwig curtly, his face the picture of indignation. Reepicheep laughed out loud and gave Pattertwig a comforting pat on the back,

'Ha-ha! You know me well enough by now that I am not such a fool! Look over yonder!' Reepicheep pointed to the far side of the river to a clump of reeds that wavered in the gentle breeze. Pattertwig saw something that he had overlooked before, probably because he was so overwhelmed by the awesomeness of the river. (Of course he was comparing this river to the tranquil Rushafell River that he adored so much, back where his tree home was.) There was what looked like a barge or a raft of some kind. 'We are in luck Pattertwig! '

'Oh, indeed we are. It would be even luckier if the barge was on this side of the river! What good is it if it is over there! You can't expect Gumblefeather to fetch it for us, unless those wing of yours make good paddles do they?' Gumblefeather shook his head vigorously,

'Ooh, nooo!'

Reepicheep sighed despairingly and gestured at the barge again,

'I didn't ask such a thing now did I? Gumblefeather, it is just as well I am here or Pattertwig would have you foraging and refurbishing his home before the day was out! Look, see there is a creature aboard the barge. Ahoy, ferryman!' There was no response.

Reepicheep and Pattertwig cudgelled their brains for a solution as to how they would get the slumbering ferryman's attention, 'I could sling a stone.' But before Reepicheep could disagree, Gumblefeather took off beating up a plume of air from the ground with his wings. He glided across the river and alighted on the barge, the water frothed between the boards that floored the craft as it tipped precariously under the weight of the owl. There before Gumblefeather was a stout, brown river rat sound asleep, propped up on a long pole like a sentry on guard with his spear.

Gradually, the river rat stirred into wakefulness, catching glimpses of the wondrously plumed owl past his heavy eyelids. Then there was an outburst of fury, 'Gah! Gerrooff mah barge, owl!' The river rat snatched a crude dagger from its sheath and charged Gumblefeather . The owl took off and lingered above the river, gliding on the thermals that caught his wings.

'Ahoy, fairy-man!' shouted Pattertwig cupping his mouth with his pandpaws.

'Wat do ye want! Who are ye?' barked the river rat. Reepicheep hushed Pattertwig and answered the river rat courteously,

'I am Sir Reepicheep and this is Pattertwig the squirrel, we were wondering if you would be kind enough to let us cross the river on your barge.'

'Aye, of course ye can me beauties! That is of course if ye can pay a small toll for me troubles!' hollered the river rat. Pattertwig glared irately at the river rat at the mention of any donation after his ill treatment to Gumblefeather,

'We haven't got any toll for you, you greedy sod! And if there is so much as a scratch on that owl there you will know all about it!' Reepicheep shot an irritated glance at Pattertwig,

'Well that's one way to persuade a river rat to help us!'

'Yaarg! Well good luck to ye wretched bilge dogs! Ye can swim for all I care! If ye can't pay the toll then why should I help ye?' A mischievous smile spread across Pattertwig's face as he winked at Reepicheep.

Barges such as the one the river rat owned are guided across a river along a rope that hangs limply across the breadth of the waterway. Without the rope, the craft would simply drift downstream at the mercy of the current. Pattertwig was quick to realise this and seize their opportunity. He sought out the tawdry rope and followed it to an ash tree that it was securely tied to. Reepicheep caught Pattertwig's drift and called to the river rat,

'Ferryman! You'd do well to stop that squirrel before he cuts you lose down the river!' The river rat performed a jig of panic and frustration, his clogs rattling on the wooden floor of the craft,

'Stop'em! Stop'em ye addlebrained dumb-beast!' The river rat's desperate goading was almost amusing to Reepicheep,

'Why should I? You refused to help me!'

The river rat burst into an angry ramble as he pushed his barge to the riverbank using his long pole with tediously slow progress, 'Aaarrgh! Curse your black soul! Avas there squirrel! I'll spill yer guts and feed'em to the gulls! Aye I will! Tie ye to the keel and drag ye under the hull! I'll fill yer clogs with pebbles and rocks and cast ye to live with the fishes!' The river rat plunged in to the shallows and scrambled ashore, sodden, dripping with water and mired to his belt buckle. 'Geerrroooveer here squirrel. Try to ruin me barge will ye? I'll use your guts fer garters!' The ash tree that the rope was tied to had a mass of rosebushes and brambles at its foot. The river rat dashed in among them, stabbing and slashing with his dagger, accentuating his words with every stroke, 'Where are ye? Come out ye lily-livered tree lubber! I'll show ye to mess with…!'

As the river rat looked back to the riverbank, where he failed to shore the barge properly, he saw that it had traversed to the middle of the river already. 'What in the blue blazes! Me barge!'

Upon the deck of the river rat's raft stood Reepicheeo and Pattertwig. Reepicheep raised his handpaw and waved to the shore elegantly, 'Fare thee well! We may yet repay you for your troubles, river rat!'

The river rat cast his dagger to the miry ground and stomped and danced in a fit of indignation as he helplessly watched his beloved barge drift away from him, 'Blast those two mutinous trout stabbers! I'll kill'em, gash their gizzards and bath'em in bilge water!'

The colourful ranting of the raging river rat became duller and was drowned out by the noisy water as Pattertwig eased the craft across to the opposite shore with the long pole, 'I think I could get used to this sort of thing.' Reepicheep dismissed absentmindedly what Pattertwig said. 'Shake me timbers me beauties! Oh, I'll clack me clogs and spin me tiller and give ye a hundred lashes if ye speak of mutiny! Yo-ho, me buckoes! Land ahoy!'

As they disembarked, the barge was left bobbing in the water and they met again with Gumblefeather who awaited them expectantly, 'Ooh, I never liked river rats. Truuely their temper is as bad as their smell.' Pattertwig nodded in agreement,

'Funny thing that. For all the time they spend around water, you'd think they'd take a bath now and again!'

'I trust you are unhurt Gumblefeather?' inquired Reepicheep. When the owl confirmed he was unharmed by the river rat they were all thankful because their knowledge was quite limited when it came to treating wounds and ailments. Reepicheep's thoughts quickly turned to the journey ahead of them, 'Right then, we should continue on our westward heading, but perhaps it would be wise for you, Gumblefeather, to scout the land ahead of us. That is if you feel up to it.'

'Ooh, I do feel awfully sleepy…' Gumblefeather vented a cavernous yawn, '…but perhaps a pleasant flap among the clouds is what I need, hoo-hoo.' Gumblefeather's great saucer-shaped, enchantingly deep eyes were heavy and he struggled to keep them open.

'Well if you feel you need to rest, we can stop somewhere far from the river in case that river rat happens cross it. We don't want any trouble that can be avoided.' But despite Reepicheep's offer, Gumblefeather insisted that there was no need for them to stop,

'Ooh, I'll never hear of it! I'll fly ahead to see the lie of the land, but nothing unordinary ever happens in these parts a far as I can see, truuuely.'

'Can I come!' blurted Pattertwig, 'I mean, eh, perhaps I should accompany Gumblefeather. Only Aslan may know what dangers he might face on such a day as this.' Gumblefeather barely nodded his head to permit the squirrel to fly with him before Pattertwig was comfortably mounted on his downy back.

Reepicheep sighed despairingly, 'It seems there's not much stopping you. Fly carefully, and throw not your caution to the winds.' Gumblefeather poised and spanned his wings. Reepicheep shielded his eyes as the great owl deftly took to the air with one fell swoop of his wings and then he watched him flap and glide away from him into the distance of the sky.

Cotton-white clouds mottled the heavens, adrift with the thermal winds. Now that Reepicheep had passed the river and emerged from the forest, this part of the land did not appear so featureless as it first seemed. As he idled onward by himself, the mountains that lay on the southern horizon were in plain view. Those mountains to the north did not boast of such a lofty summit as their southern counterparts, but there was no denying the sense of mystery that the dun-coloured silhouettes beyond those mountains aroused. He remembered stories of how King Peter the Magnificent and King Edmund the Brave had went to that land called Ettinsmoor and fought the giants there into submission. There were also more vague stories that there was a place there that served as a haven for evil witches and sorceresses. It was said that Jadis, the White Witch, fled there to save herself from Aslan near the day of creation and dwelt there until she was strong enough to lay her icy hands over the land.

The fields and valleys were sparingly spattered with various features that did not draw any undue attention from the mouse. He espied some blatant mounds of freshly disturbed earth that looked not unlike anthills, but Reepicheep had seen that phenomenon often enough to know that they were molehills.

He spared a moment to admire some of the trees that he passed by. He always compared trees to those from his earliest memories when he was only a couple of seasons old, he dwelt in a secret part of the southern woods that he never found his way back to since he ventured from them. There most of the wood was like much like a great pillared hall, were the trees grew close together and to their full height. Branching off from the pillars were the eaves and terraces that supported a lofty green canopy where the sunlight iridescently set aglow as it would with a stain glass ceiling, enriching the whole place with a verdant splendour that was brought to life by the invariant beams of golden light that escaped through the wavering leaves to adorn the forest floor. Despite the unique beauty of those trees, he was intrigued by how differently trees thrived in the open. They stretched their branches and leaves all and asunder in every direction, carefree of any other trees around to hinder them.

The sense of wistful euphoria was quickly abandoned as he came by an inadequate sized pond. It was mostly a mass of entangled rustling reeds that he supposed enclosed the still body of water. Reepicheep was curious about it despite how mundane it may too seem to many a passing creature. Being conscious of the fact that Gumblefeahter and Pattertwig may report back to him soon, he felt that instead of travelling any further he would seize this chance to investigate the abnormally quiet pond. The first thing of course that aroused his suspicion was that there was none of the typical sounds you would expect to hear at such a place. There was no croaking of toads or quacking of ducks or trilling from insects, just a slight whisper of air through the abundance of plants. He drew his rapier; the scrape of the steel had disturbed the foreboding silence. With the length of the sword he cast the reeds gently to one side, expecting to see a glassy surface of a motionless pond beyond their veil. Nestled in the pondweeds was a sort of large white-plumed bird. A swan perhaps? If a swan it was, Reepicheep knew he would certainly have to be wary and acknowledged the very real chance that it could attack if it discovered him. He knew how fiercely birds would protect their nests; he guessed that swans were much the same.

The mass of feathers began to stir; this was no swan like Reepicheep had ever seen. Light flashed off a long orange beak as it careened its head round on a long serpentine neck to fix its sights on Reepicheep. He turned and fled away from the weed-swamped pond. There was a great disturbance among the thick of the pondweeds. As he glanced over his shoulder, Reepicheep shrunk back at the sight of the wicked bird peering at him from above the tall reeds. It stood there ominously; its lengthy slender legs bore it clear over the reeds as it took one considerable step. It stalked menacingly over to him with no more than half a dozen paces.

Reepicheep denied his urge to run. He knew that the wading bird would be upon him in a blink of an eye if he exposed his back, the result would be been fatal. 'Aslan help me,' he thought as he stood in the looming bird's shadow, a heron he now realised it was. He wondered if it was a Talking Beast, but then he wondered again if that would at all matter. He sorely hoped that his fear did not show outwardly. The heron narrowed its eyes on him; Reepicheep grasped his shield tighter to raise it against an imminent attack from the bird. He watched its head drift slowly back, no doubt for its first strike 'Here it comes…'

'Keegraahh, seen a frog or not?' Reepicheep flinched and braced for an impact behind his shield, but there was none. Peering over the shield rim, he met the confounded gape of the heron, its expression seemed to reflect his own feelings as he sighed heavily,

'I beg your pardon?'

'Keerah-ah, seen no frog then not? Keegraah! Seen a toad or not?' The heron's head twitched curiously as if it was trying establish a better position to look at Reepicheep. He did not entirely drop his guard, and he could not take his eyes off the menacingly sharp beak, but he did his best to appear affable to the fickle heron. His voice was quite hesitant,

'I have seen no frogs or toads unfortunately. If I meet any I'll be sure to tell them you are looking for them. May I ask why?' The heron hastily scratched under its wing with the tip of its beak then squawked with frustration,

'Kraagh! Eat them! Eat them! Tell them not!'

'I should have known that,' Reepicheep thought. But before he could offer his sympathies the bird had turned and started to stalk back to the pond. It was obvious that the heron had completely lost interest in Reepicheep. He waited until its head was lost to view behind the reeds again before slinging his shield upon his back and sheathing his rapier.

A combination of shaken nerves and relief made the whole encounter seemed quite humorous to Reepicheep, 'That is one creature easily appeased.'

It was a good quarter of an hour before Pattertwig had ceased his jubilant whooping from the beginning of their scouting mission. Gumblefeather took them clear into the depths of the sky, the land pulling away beneath them,

'Easy on there Gumblefeather! If we get too high we won't be able to tell the difference between the trees and a rabbit's dinner!'

'Truuuely, I can't see much at all! I'm not used to so much light in this bright hour of the day!' The seriousness of their predicament suddenly hit Pattertwig, flying on a blind owl was not at all a reassuring thought,

'Oh merciful father of the Lion from beyond the sea! Why didn't you tell me that before you took me up with you?'

'Ooh, but I would have if you were not sooo insistent.' Pattertwig remained silent, 'You will just have to be my eyes tree-hopper!' Gradually, Gumblefeather descended, the land encroached beneath them. Now Pattertwig could pick out the finer details of all they flew over. If you can imagine flying swiftly over endless green fields, passing by an occasional thicket of hedges, a clump of trees, observing the rise and fall of the uneven hillocks and outcropping rocks and the passing air pounding your ears then you would not be far off what Pattertwig was experiencing. If anything did catch his eye he would be past it before he could study it further and soon he got quite frustrated,

'Will you slow down a bit! We're not racing a centaur to breakfast you know!' Gumblefeather spoke not a word. Pattertwig noticed a sudden decline in their headlong flight. The ground advanced on them frighteningly fast, Pattertwig's heart was in his mouth,

'Pull up you crazy bird!' Gumblefeather made no response, in seconds they would collide with the bone-breaking ground. Spurred by panic in that crucial moment, Pattertwig lunged forward and grasped the thick plumage on top of Gumblefeather's head. He tugged and pulled to the limits of his exertion as if he was reining an untamed horse, wrenching the owl's head back. Gumblefeather's wings flapped frantically and the ground pulled away as they gained height once again. Pattertwig's heart was racing,

'What was all that about?' he gasped, his breathing was exasperated. Gumblefeather seemed unperturbed by the whole incident,

'Ooh, I must have dozed off. Sorry about that, hoo-hoot.' Pattertwig's confidence in the owl was rapidly deteriorating,

'Let's turn back! You were right, there isn't much to report back to Reepicheep after all.' But as if in response to his resignation, as they wheeled round back the way they came he laid eyes upon a thing that would lend them the speed of urgency to meet back with Reepicheep again, 'Would you look at that!'

'Ooh, I say, look at what? I couldn't see a minotaur in a faun party with all this blinding daylight!' hooted Gumblefeather.

'To the Northwest! A fog as thick as my grandfather's brush is falling across the land. If it comes this way we will all be as blind as you Gumblefeahter!' The pair of them flew swift and low without incident to find Reepicheep again, before the blanket of fog came upon them.


	11. 11 A Wish Upon a Hart

**A Wish Upon a Hart**

Now had fortune proved kinder to Pattertwig, had he instead a friend skilled at flying without snoozing in mid-flight and with eyes accustomed to the light of day, and had there not been a vast cloud of fog rolling towards them forcing them to land, his scouting mission might have turned out more fruitful. From the point of their return, just a stone's throw ahead from there, a river hurriedly flows on its southward journey. Beyond the river flourishes another dwelling for trees; and pity on the person who finds Narnian woods and forests a monotonous recurrence. On the other side of that wood, between it and another stretch of woodland in fact, a tributary of the Great River wells into a lake, possibly the largest lake in all of Narnia.

Upon this lake a gathering of ducks held place, oblivious to all but the pressing matters that they discussed,

'_Quack_ of the morning to you my friends!'

'_Quack_ of the morning Paddleskip!' they all chorused to the new arrival.

'What's the _quack_ my feathered folks? Any _quack?'_ Paddleskip said affably. The flock of ducks received the greeting as if they were being asked 'anything new?' or 'what's happening in your life?' but was most certainly asked with intent as to say the like of, 'what have I missed while you have all been chattering without me, you conspiring lot!' They were all too glad to tell him even though they had probably repeated the same conversation more than a dozen times since the day began,

'Blabberbill and Pondlebuff can't _quack_ a decision between them about who has ever _quacked_ down the most taddlequacks.' If you have a particular liking of frogs or tadpoles I am sorry for not warning you earlier about this, the last thing I would care to do is upset good story readers, but by 'taddlequacks' they actually meant 'tadpoles.'

_'Quacking_ down taddlequacks, _quack?_ Every _quack_ knows I'm _quacker _at scoffing taddlequacks, no _quack_ of a doubt the very best!' The rest of the company pouted and ruffled their feathers huffily,

'Wait just a _quack_ of a moment! Blabberbill and I are no _quac_k of a doubt two of the very best – No_ quack_ else!' said Pondlebuff as Blabberbill quacked in agreement,

'Yeatth no _quack_ of a doubt, we are the besstthh!' Blabberbill had a quite conspicuous lisp; it is very common with ducks because of the shape of their bill-beaks. Paddleskip continued to chaff them,

'Is that _quack_ so? Well then, how many taddlequacks can you _quack_ down if you are so good, _quack?_'

'Sixty! Sixty taddlequacks!' said Pondlebuff very proudly. A wave of awe resounded from the rest of the ducks, despite having heard the benchmark figure before from Pondlebuff.

'And you, Blabberbill, how many taddlequacks can you _quack_ down?' Blabberbill took more time to ponder the question before relaying his answer,

'_Quack_-ahhh-_Quack,_ let me sstthheee…about ssstthhixty assth well. Yesstthh, sstthhixty!' Paddlebuff sniggered derisively in a deliberate attempt to put down their boast.

'So, you think you can do better do you, _quack?_ How many can you_ quack_ down?'

'A-hundred!' said Paddlebuff haughtily. There was a furious outburst of quacking and thrashing of wings beating the water after hearing this absurd boast from Paddlebuff, which was without an ounce of truth in it. Paddlebuff's whole disposition reeked of deceit which made the ducks challenge him but others loyally defended him regardless if he was telling the truth or not.

Nevertheless, this resulted in them all being caught up in a zealous exchange of accusations and insults, not to mention a considerable amount of meaningless quacking, and albeit it might be interesting to know some of the colourful things that were fired between the opposing parties it's not really relevant to the story and so not worth the telling.

Fortunately, the quarrel never went beyond trading of harsh words before they were all broken up. In the place near the centre of the lake, where the ducks' gathering had been dispersed, there emerged from the depths of the water, gasping for breath, a round head thick with ruddy brown fur. It was a beaver.

Before you could look twice at the bobbing creature in the fleeting shadows of the flocking ducks from the edge of the lake (and if you had convinced yourself that your eyes weren't playing tricks on you) it had submerged again sending forth a ring of circular ripples to sweep the surface of the entire lake. Every depression of the choppy water surface was inky black and it reflected the white of the overcast sky where the light took it.

The shores of the lake met those of the forest, the front line of trees embracing the full light from above. The beaver surfaced a second time to confirm that he was on his intended course. 'Bloi me, oim bloomin' nacked,' he muttered. He scanned the shadowy embankment of overhanging trees intensively, his eyesight was not very good, but he persevered - there it was. He saw the little inlet that he knew well, wending its way as a canal into the forest beneath the canopy and took no time at all making his way up it.

A third time he reared his head from the murky water and peered into the dimness of the forest. There, straight ahead, was his destination and he looked upon it with pride despite all else for it was his creation, the result of his hard work and what all industrious beaver folk aspire to achieve – his very own lodge. Hours had amounted to days, and days turned into weeks and weeks into months and seasons of toil, the result; a homely and secure structure of timber and earthy loam with a chimney to vent cooking smoke and steam, not to mention a very noticeable bald patch in the forest riddled with conical stumps of felled trees that provided the lumber for the building. He knew that this home was rightfully his and his family's to live out their days in peace and comfort, yet dread swelled up within him as he came before it; the canal encircled the lodge like a moat.

The only way for beavers to get in and out of the lodge was an underwater entrance, so for the last time he submerged to the murky depths. His powerful rudder tail propelled him deftly through the water in a nosedive then suddenly - up, up he went then before he knew it he was inside in the welcoming warmth of the fire. Normally, beavers do not have a fire burning in their lodge, their lodges are always cosily warm no matter the weather and they can find their way about their home comfortably enough without much light, but they would always have a fire going if they had guests over for a sociable tea or dinner and such was, in fact, nothing of the like.

There by the fire, warming his feet rested on the fender and sitting on a dining chair in such a way that it tilted and rocked precariously on two legs, was a dwarf. He had not noticed the beaver's arrival. The beaver glared at him disdainfully for a while until he could not bear to hold his tongue anymore,

'Crumwhort!...you'll never guess the luck oi've had this time!' he boomed to deliberately startle the dwarf, and it worked. The dwarf lost his balance on the chair, arms flailing, casting a loaf and a pint beer-mug into the air. The chair's rear legs gave way then the whole chair was reduced to splinters of firewood under the hefty body of Crumwhort now lying in an awkward heap,

'Oooohh!....arrggh!' Crumwhort staggered to his feet holding his back. His black beard was tucked into his silver bucked belt that restrained his bulging midriff. He furiously pulled back his green hood and flashed his angry, bright eyes at the beaver,

'What do you think you are playing at Bunter Beaver? I'm not deaf you know! What luck have you had? Fork it up, come on!' The dwarf held his greedy hands out impatiently. Bunter, as you now know was the beaver's name, held a clenched handpaw over the dwarf's outstretched hands, a repulsive clod of mud meshed with algae plopped into them as Bunter opened his handpaw. Crumwhort quailed, flung it to the ground and dealt Bunter a relentless backhand slap across his muzzle that sent him on his back. 'You insolent rudder-rat! Where is my gold?'

Bunter wiped a trickle of blood away from his lips getting back to his footpaws again, 'Oi don't know where you got the oidear that gold is to be fownd on the bottom of the lake over yonder, but oim tellin' you naow – there isn't none down there you ould villan!'

Crumwhort grinned wickedly behind his scruffy beard, 'Well that's no good is it? Swinglepick! Shoveldigel!' Two other dwarves stormed into the room carrying an iron-barred cage between them. Their fumbling hands struggled to get it unlocked and opened with a great deal of bickering and arguing - Crumwhort was very red in the face with impatience before they had done so but as they dragged the captive creature out by the scuff, Bunter seethed with hatred,

'Help me, Father, don't let them hurt me! Boo, hoo!' it wailed as Shoveldigel raised his dagger. The captive was Bunter's offspring, Ruddletod.

'Hold still till I skin ye! Stop yer squirming you furry little squeak-pot!' grumbled Shoveldigel.

'Huh-huh! We will make a nice furry hat when we does skin the little beaver, won't we?' said Swinglepick. Before Bunter could gather his wits to rush to Ruddletod's aid it was too late. Crumwhort had already dashed among Swinglepick and Shoveldigel, berating them profusely while tugging their beards, pinching their noses and poking their round bellies (which as you may know as Crumwhort did, are the very things to do to make any dwarf terribly unhappy),

'Who said anything about skinning the beaver?...Not I! If you kill him what good will it do? And what do you want with a furry hat anyway, I ask you, what!' Shoveldigel and Swinglepick were absolutely dumbfounded and did their best to protect their noses and guard their bellies from being poked and pinched.

Amidst all the commotion Ruddletod was dropped at their feet and completely lost from the dwarf's minds. He scurried over to his father and wept and sobbed for that brief moment of embrace in Bunter's arms – a moment that they both would have liked to have lasted for many seasons, most definitely without the quarrelling dwarves, but it was not to be – the harshness of that reality urged Bunter to act,

'Run! Go far from 'ere and oi will find you no matter where you go. But until then brave Ruddletod...go!' So reluctantly Ruddletod went, to the water's edge without a backward glance, out to the forest and far from Bunter Beaver's lodge. That is how Ruddletod made his escape. Bunter no doubt would have liked nothing better than to go with him had circumstances been different – Crumwhort spoke words like daggers of truth when he found that Ruddletod was gone,

'Don't you be getting smart now beaver because that little runt is gone! We still have your pretty little wife locked up sound and safe and she won't get away so easily. That's why you are going to keep searching for my gold that lies on the lakebed! I know it's there and if you don't find it or try to keep it from me its rusty shovels and blunt pickaxes for your precious wife, you hear!'

~0~

The day was getting on, and one very unusual day it was turning out to be for Reepicheep, Pattertwig and Gumblefeather. The sun was descending from its zenith, arching across the sky and falling to the west, but unbeknown to the eyes of all Narnians between the Eastern Sea and the edge of the Western Wilds. The fog fell thick on the land shortly after the three met up again and by the time Pattertwig could say _'slumbering owl'_ or _'falling forty winks' _Reepicheep knew all too well about the predicament that they were now in because he seen the fog with his own eyes all about them – in fact there was not much else that he could see. There really was nothing else for it. They came to the decision between them that it was too risky to move on in the fog, realising that they could well lose their sense of direction or any kind of mishap could befall them that normally their eyes could help them prevent. They could come across a bog or marshland and find themselves nose deep in mire and muck, they could stumble upon a hole home to some beast that does not take kindly to uninvited visitors or they could have stepped straight over a precipice to fall into a gloomy abyss! Pattertwig shuddered at the thought. They managed to stir up a fire from the meagre materials at their handpaws where they made camp and round the fire they waited for the fog to pass.

'Indeed I won't be doing that again too soon,' said Pattertwig looking at the sleeping Gumblefeather, reflecting on his flight with the owl. Reepicheep sat watching the firelight play on his drawn rapier,

'I would not be doing it at all. If squirrels or mice were meant to fly Aslan would have would have gave us wings. All is as Aslan wills it, and if we cannot fulfil our quests with what he has given us then - well I suppose we would not be here on such a quest as this.'

Pattertwig shivered. He became aware of the cold emptiness all around them. He feared that the fire would draw the attention of prying eyes keen enough to see them through the fog. The idea of some beast spying of them without their knowing was unsettling,

'If that is so then I wish he would turn up now and give us some bally scoff – O! confusticate and confound my empty stomach! Why didn't I pack some food!'

Reepicheep rose from his shield that he was sitting on and sheathed his sword once more, gazing into the surrounding gloom, 'You know that you have served yourself well Pattertwig. I have heard of creatures being recognised for lesser deeds than you have performed as of late. Why then haven't you asked for the title that I have the right to give you?' Dwelling on thoughts of what you would expect a hungry squirrel to be thinking about, Pattertwig took a while to realise what exactly Reepicheep was talking about – and disappointingly it was nothing to do with acorns, pinecones or anything of the appetizing sort,

'You mean – why haven't I asked to be knighted by your knightly self? I tell you Reepicheep why – I have no wish for any title of the sort! Glory. Honour. And all that ghastly business with swinging of swords, being embroiled in adventures that do nothing to add to my stockpile of nuts to prepare for winter and quests that take me far from trees to quarrels that are not of my own! I offer you my thanks for the offer – but a very definite and unmistakeably doubtless and courteous _no thanks.' _And with that _no thanks_ he gave a graceful bow, 'Besides, who shall be your squire if I am a knight myself? I won't have some jolly new bounder taking my place and making a fair looking mess of things!' Reepicheep suppressed a laugh,

'You seem adamant!' He was quite pleased to know that Pattertwig intended to remain in his company all the same.

'I am, I assure you. I have wondered though since that day you fought the ravens, who was the one whom you received your title from?'

Reepicheep remained silent. He could not lie to Pattertwig nor could he tell him the truth – but there was need for neither right then.

In that moment they heard noise echoing from the gloom. Whatever it was it was faint and far off. For a time they listened intently, all the time wishing that they something to put over Gumblefeather's head to quiet his snoring, and even considered to smoor the fire to cease the crackling but they thought better of that remembering the trouble it took to light in the first place. The noise was getting closer and more recognisable – it was a yammering like that of hounds. 'I wonder can they see our fire even in the fog,' muttered Reepicheep.

Pattertwig's worst fears seemed to be the turning out as perfectly as he imagined and as every bit unpleasant, 'Should we run? We could leave the fire burning and still escape them in the fog!'

'No, hounds will track us easily enough despite the fog. And as the alternative of flying on Gumblefeather is no longer an option, I suggest you prepare for a fight –grab your shield.'

Pattertwig took his advice. He stooped to seize his shield from the ground. Suddenly from the dull shrouds of the fog a white creature leapt upon the fire sending scorched branches and ashes all scattering. Reepicheep and Pattertwig were startled but caught a last glimpse of the creature as it vanished into the grey fog once more,

'That was a deer! A white one!' blurted Pattertwig.

'I think so too.' said Reepicheep, 'A stag – fleeing from the hounds! Let's hope they shall keep pursing it and not turn their attention to us!'

Seconds later their shared hopes seemed to be happening all at once. Out of the gloom, from the same direction that the White Stag had come, appeared first a Great Dane, tall and venerable. Then a grey wolf with blue eyes emerged from the fog, its tongue wagging as regular as any dog you can imagine. Then they all came in clusters of half dozens then soon enough in full dozens. Foxes, hounds of many a sort (Grey Hounds, Great Danes, Collies and Labradors and Alsatians) and of course wolves, every one with their own special markings. They all passed them by hurriedly in a mass pursuit of the stag barking and yammering with tails wagging and tongues lolling and mouths all foaming and slobbering – there was not a growl or whimper and never a tooth bared to harm among them. They trampled out what was left of the fire after the White Stag scattered it and the air was rank with the scent of their fur and warm doggy breath. As you can imagine, Gumblefeather had shaken all sleep from his feathers by this point and had flapped off at the first sight of the hounds, foxes and wolves. Reepicheep and Pattertwig managed to see the end of the stampede of excitement unharmed. There were two stragglers who came last out of the misty pall of the fog – a wolf and a fox. Then an extraordinary thrill spontaneously overcame Reepicheep.

'Hail there you two laggards! I beg you take us with you on your hunt – I doubt you could go any slower bearing a mouse and a squirrel!' shouted Reepicheep, and to the end of his days he could never guess why he did it, but he was sure of one thing – he never ever regretted it.

'Laggards?' bayed the fox, completely stopped in his tracks in amazement.

'We'll show you who's slow!' bellowed the wolf in a gruff voice, 'Hop on our backs and hold tight, you jumped up so-and-sos, and know from this day that four legs can fly swifter than the wind!' And so before Reepicheep could think twice about it, he was upon the wolf's back and was off in such a sudden burst of speed that he felt that he should check that he had not left his tail and red plumed feather back at the camp. Pattertwig sat upon the fox, although his motivation was one more of panic at the thought of being left all by himself at the foggy camp.

The wolf's paw-falls fell surprisingly gently upon the grass as his headlong spurt seemed to reach its peak. The air whirred past Reepicheep's ears and dew-drops began to gather on his whiskers and fur from the moist air. 'Surely,' he thought, 'this must be what it is like to fly among the clouds.' They passed by many other wolves, hounds and foxes who seemed to be tiring. As luck would have it, Reepicheep picked the right wolf for the chasing of the White Stag, for he was pacing himself perfectly. He had let the rest of the hunters chase the White Stag to the brink of its endurance and now he would up his pace to make an end to it. A time came though when his speed began to slack off – the wolf was getting tired after all, or so Reepicheep thought. But they were now at the head of the pursuers and there only paces ahead, like a white spectre in the mist, was the White Stag,

'Swifter than the wind does BLOOOOooow!' howled the wolf. With one last burst of speed – he leapt, and Reepihceep leapt from the wolf's back too, landing quite deftly. The White Stag made to jolt to one side to suddenly perform a zig-zag motion, a manoeuvre that had cheated many a hunter from its quarry – but not this time. The stag's limb's failed him for the fatigue was too much. The White Stag was dragged headfirst to the ground by his left antler which was clamped between the wolf's jaws – the stag gave a long sigh of resignation. Reepicheep was utterly confused for rest of this occurrence.

The fox bearing Pattertwig was the next one to arrive on the scene, 'You are caught! White Stag! Grant Lunetail what you must!' he said. Lunetail, the wolf, released his bite and up rose the White Stag – it began to chant,

'Fumblefoot, hear him toot

His grant old hunting horn!

Yammer and bark,

Hear and hark,

His hundred hounds before him!

Catch-a-hart, content your heart

With a wish I'll grant so easy.

Tell me nigh!

What colour am I!

What colour is bread on Tuesday?'

Lunetail sat before the White Stag as more hounds, wolves and foxes arrived and began to encircle him and the White Stag. Lunetail chanted his reply,

'O! A tricky old one are you!

"Release me and I'll give you wishes!"

I'd rather fill my belly with you,

And lick clean all the dishes!

Sunday – Bread is red with your blood!

Monday, its blue with mould.

But Tuesday it's all _white_ with butter

But my wish would never be told.'

The White Stag chanted again,

'Fibbers tell lies! Hags of wiles!

Venison is not to be put in pies,

It only turns rotten and poison!

Nudge and hug a bear,

Of the Talking sort? Beware!

Shot, skinned and roasted with apples!

Fish for fish,

Cook a pavender dish,

Or eat it from a dwarf's hat!

Queen Susan had a bow

That aimed never amiss!

- For apples you'll guess

But think a wish afore I vanish!'

From between the antlers of the White Stag, as Lunetail sat still before it, there was a wondrously pale glow, whiter than the stag itself. But the next thing every beast knew was that the White Stag was gone, and there was Lunetail spinning and twirling in circles chasing his tail like a young pup. The Fox from before, who was a close friend of his, burst into laughter, 'Huh-huh-huh! He has wished himself a foxes' tail – just like mine!' Then he rushed upon him and tackled him to the ground. Reepicheep saw the truth in the foxes' words; Lunetail now had a foxes' tail!

'That's right mate! Except mine is bushier than yours! See if you can't howl like a wolf, perhaps I made a wish for that too!' chuckled Lunetail.

The two began to howl – louder and louder, then by the end of it every hound, fox and wolf present were howling as good as any wolf you have ever heard. Reepicheep and Pattertwig had their handpaws pressed firmly against their ears for what seemed like ages – not even Reepicheep could find the courage to tell them to be quiet, though I'm sure he would probably deny that – or worse still take it as a challenge or an impeachment of his honour!


	12. 12 Wolfchant

**Wolfchant**

The jubilant yowling and howling of the wolves, foxes and hounds had long ceased, but it had left Reepicheep's and Pattertwig's ears ringing for some time after. Lunetail, the wolf that now had the foxtail that he had wished for, was very affably natured - Reepicheep and Pattertwig took an instant fondness to him. He saw how utterly flummoxed they both were about the whole event that had just happened although he didn't have to explain much before they understood. Reepicheep and Pattertwig recalled the tales of old about the White Stag, but those were from an awfully long time ago, so they still found it hard to take in what Lunetail told them,

'Well don't you both believe what your own eyes have shown you? For howling sakes! Ask any loyal creature here among us! We are the hunters of the Waterfall Pack. Once every year the White Stag will storm our Hall of Feasting behind the Great River Waterfall west of here! – that is how the hunt begins! But only one can make a wish – the one who catches the White Stag. Finally I have got my wish that I have longed for years to make!' Lunetail paused to have a brisk scratch behind his ear, 'So you see, those tales you know may very well be true. Although I don't think that the Waterfall Pack was around that long ago, huh-huh-huh!'

'You are a very swift runner!' said Reepicheep as he thought back to the chase.

'Of course! Unless you thought to call me a liar as well as a laggard.' Lunetail replied, 'It could well be that I owe you for lending me speed. I may not have ran as fast if you did not challenge me – it made me dreadfully angry.'

Reepicheep became very apologetic, but Lunetail told him not to mention it and went as far as to gather all the clan members so that they would all apologise to Pattertwig and Reepicheep for trampling out their camp fire, which they did quite obediently – Lunetail seemed to hold an air of dominance in the hunter pack.

'Why not come you, Reepicheep and Pattertwig, that we may return to our hall and you can eat your fill! After all, night shall be upon us soon – not a time to be sitting upon this plain lighting fires, especially this night of all nights.'

'We would be much obliged to go with you to your hall Lunetail,' said Reepicheep, 'But know that it is not out of fear of the fog that we would go to spend the night in your company.'

'Indeed why should you be afraid of the fog? It is what prowls about the land unseen in the fog that you should fear.' Lunetail noticed how Reepicheep and Pattertwig again looked blankly at him – he stopped for another scratch, 'Come, let us not linger here! We shall talk further once we return to the Hall of Feasting!' And as he gave another heartening howl the whole pack was up and bustling, Reepicheep was on Lunetail's back and Pattertwig (who was very excited at the word _'feasting'_ being mentioned) on the fox's and off they were again through the fog. The yammering clamour of the wolves, foxes and hounds resounded throughout the gloom.

Reepicheep and Pattertwig were lost in their own thoughts as they rode upon their hosts, but they shared the same concern for their friend Gumblefeather. The last they saw of the owl was him fluttering into the murky greyness, but at that time they were more worried about themselves than Gumblefeather, and I'm sure at that time at the camp they were wishing that Aslan had gave them wings so that they could have followed him, high from the oncoming hounds.

As Reepicheep thought that the wolf could run no faster, over foggy dale and valley they went, they came to a steep slope, with Pattertwig and the fox close behind, and Luntail's legs flagged all the more as they descended the hillock, Reepicheep always blind to anything further ahead than the tips of Lunetail's ears – he honestly thought that he had lost his vision altogether for the fog did nothing to hinder the wolf in the slightest.

There came the noise of water. Not like that of a running river or of a lake lapping the shore, but that of a plunging waterfall. Pattertwig thought it sounded like thunder, but he knew it could not be – it did not come in cracks and claps or in fading and rising rumbles, it was a consistent roaring noise, more like a pride of lions roaring in the distance (or what he guessed a pride of lions sounded like, but at that moment he could think of nothing else that the terrifying noise could come from). Reepicheep did not know what to make of it. He had been told that the Hall of Feasting was behind a waterfall but even if he was told a second time he could not fathom how water could make such a rambunctious resonation. No matter what he believed though, they were most certainly getting closer to its source because the noise was getting louder.

Suddenly, Lunetail stooped then leapt, forcing Reepicheep to grasp the wolf's mane tighter lest he fall off – they were off the ground. Reepicheep saw nothing but the gloom. First the cold air was stifling rushing against his face and then the latter shock came - he hit a wall of icy water that made him gasp then a shock lanced through him as Lunetail's paws touched the solid ground then he stole onwards at a dogtrot.

They had arrived at the home of the Waterfall Pack, into a world of light and colour. Had the shivering Reepicheep's senses not been slightly numbed by the cold and the rough entrance he might have been gladder for it, but he still thought it was a wondrous place all the same. The walls were all of stone like that of a cove moulded into the cliffs by the punishing sea, or a cave dug out by mining dwarves, but it was not at all a place dark and dingy like those. There were no fires or torches burning to illuminate the cavernous hall, so how, in Aslan's name, was the place so lavishly lit up? thought Reepicheep. The fog was as thick as ever outside and even if there was any trace of light left of the day it could not have reached the innermost crevices and crannies of the hall.

The rest of the pack all came dashing and flooding in through the curtain of falling water and began to fill the hall with their awaiting brethren, stopping now and again to have a good shake and a roll on the floor and before long the air was stuffy and pungent with the smell of wet fur.

Reepicheep realised then the light source of the hall – the very walls of rock themselves! Jutting rocks formed stairways to lofty balconies and terraces, overhanging the bustling bottom-most floor of the hall. The whole place was aglow with the radiance of glorious gems and stones that encrusted the walls and roof, no raging fire, save for the sun, could surpass their radiance.

One of the set backs of being a mouse , in an occasion such as this, is that you cannot carry a dwarf in your pocket, as a giant might do, to tell you the names of precious stones. But had a dwarf been in their company, despite being a very excited creature indeed, his knowledge would surely have failed him if he were to be asked to explain this phenomenon before them; Rubies, Emeralds, Sapphires, Moonstones, Quartz Crystals, Topazes, Rose Quartzes, Tiger's-eyes, Malachite stones, Amethysts, Bloodstones – all renowned names of sparkling trifles among dwarven folk although - these were living and growing jewels and gems, much more good to look upon than the dead gems that most of us might think we know all about.

'Behold Reepicheep! This is our Hall of Feasting! Tonight it is as yours to feast and sleep in as your own!' boomed Lunetail. Reepicheep went afoot and gaped about in admiration,

'I- I have never seen a wonder like of this!' his voice seemed to cause a trembling, as if he stood in the hollow of an colossal bronze bell, then came the hearty chuckles of Lunetail,

'I am inclined to believe that, young mouse! What you see is the gifts of the Earthmen, from the deep, deep place of Bism! You may have the pleasure of meeting one of the Earthmen in person tonight. This is the night of their last visit from their deep realm beneath the crust. You may be the only mouse ever to know such an honour.'

The flow of pack members into the hall abated and it was some time before all the jostling and mock scrapping came to an end as well. A flat stone table was situated right in the centre of the hall; its smoothed surface reflected the glimmering roof like starlight shimmering on a calm lake. Wooden bowls were laid upon it all and sundry. The Waterfall Pack crowded and sat around it as much as room would allow, of course there being no chairs, Reepicheep and Pattertwig stood by Lunetail as his guests. Anyone who could not find a place at the table took up a spot on one of the high places and as Reepicheep looked up they put him to mind of woodpigeons, peering curiously from their lofty perches.

Reepicheep knew they were all waiting for something to happen. They sat licking their chops longingly – it was clear what they were waiting for. Any minute now the bowls would be filled by some caterer with raw meat dripping red for them all to gorge on like the wild beasts that they are – or so Reepicheep was thinking. It occurred to him that his distaste of another creature's flesh would exclude from the meal, hungry though he was. What a fool he had been not to have foreseen this earlier! Pattertwig had claimed his bowl immediately, expecting nothing less than a copious portion of prepared acorns and hazelnuts – that was his only interpretation of the word _'feast.'_

Reepicheep heard echoes once more altogether out of place with the regular tumult and to-do that the Waterfall Pack was creating. It was coming from somewhere at the backmost part of the hall behind him and it became gradually more audible as cheerful singsong voices. All eyes turned readily to a crevice, wider abreast and taller in height than the others that riddled the hall's walls. Dim light flickered and shadows danced within it – it was then they picked out the words of the song echoing deep behind its threshold,

'O! High ho! My deary low!

From Bism go climb from me!

High from our homes you go,

"The Earthmen Gnomes are we!"

We've gifts for the Wolves of the Waterfall Pack,

For Fighting off the dwarves, so greedy!

Never will dwarves get our living alive gems

By mining, with war axes or entreaty!'

Out of the of the crevice trundled a dozen pale-faced men toting and pushing wheelbarrows, piled and overflowing with an abundance of shining, living gems. Some could have been mistook for a dwarf if they were alone because of their tawdry beards thrust into their britches. Some had beak noses (like some dwarves do), but others had noses like small trunks and others had noses round and lumpy. Some had a distinct single horn on their foreheads but all save for one, who had to crouch awkwardly to get out of the narrow passage, was about a foot in height. They began to dump the gems upon the table in a heap then make their way back to the opening in the wall with their barrows singing all the while,

'O! High ho! My deary low!

Bism's the place for me!

O! riddle games with salamanders,

Swimming in rivers of fire they'll be!

Topdwellers! How can you like

Crawling on the surface like flies!

Overlanders! Say what you might,

We never want to see gaping skies!

Delving deep and diving down,

To the Deepest depths!

High-low!

Diggery delvering doopering down!

O! From high diggery, duggery-down low!'

One of the gnomes remained, filling all the bowls with juice from the rubies and finally taking a place on the top of the profuse mountain of living gems. His voice was hoarse yet merry, 'Our gifts, I say, our gifts to you Waterfall Pack! You have been kind to our people and we are most grateful, I say, most grateful. By driving out the dwarves from their mines with your fearsome teeth and howling, you keep Bism a peaceful place and that it will remain for many a year hereafter! Alas, tonight is our last meeting. We have sealed all the dwarf tunnels made beneath save for one that I may return to Bism and therefore this shall be our last visit and final offering…goodbye!'

But before the gnome had barely began his speech of thanks and farewells, the pack were all feasting lavishly on the fabulously glowing gems and quaffing down the ruby juice from the bowls. Pattertwig thought it much like scoffing down berries, which he was too fond of doing as you have read in a previous chapter of this story. Reepicheep made sure he sampled each and every type of gem, then after the individual sampling he went about stuffing two and three at a time into his mouth – they must have tasted delicious, but it remains a mystery to me what they actually _did_ taste like. The wolves, foxes and hounds were making short work of them as well.

The gnome who had spoken his thanks got only one farewell in return from Lunetail, but even he was too occupied with the colourful repast before him to witness him go back into the crevice and observe it close up eternally behind him. Thus the Earthmen were never seen in Narnia ever again (although they were not entirely forgotten).

Stomachs were filled, all hunger vanquished and all seemed fit for to lie down to sleep and listen to the galloping waters of the Great River Waterfall on the hall's doorstep. Reepicheep, of course, was curious about the story with the gnomes and if their world could ever be reached by himself. Lunetail merely said that he supposed it was possible, then told how once upon a time a clan of dwarves somehow learned of the existence of Bism and made it their mission to make the deepest mine ever dug to reach the Earthmen's realm. They succeeded, but a centaur maiden beckoned a pack of wolves to drive the dwarves out and told them of the rich rewards they would receive from the Earthmen for their help. Of course, if you have not made a guess, the centaur maiden was Gladebreeze and the wolves were a pack of which Lunetail's father belonged to. But the full telling of that tale does not come into this story.

Now the time for slumber had not come about yet and all had to suppress their weariness with their heavy bellies. Lunetail rose on all fours from the table and stole up to the crown of a high rock and he announced: 'Bring Mooncub to our presence! The time is upon us, night long has fallen, the moon highly risen and the hour of the Werewolf is near!' A couple of foxes were quick to obey. They made their way nimbly to the yawning threshold of the hall and out into the vast fog.

Silent moments past (as silent as moments come in a hall full of hounds, wolves and foxes – with many a yawn, an echoing of a spontaneous sneeze and the development of irresistible scratching that spread contagiously). The summons was answered by a wolf. He splashed through the dynamic curtain of the waterfall in a mist of spray, panting like the bellows. His eyes were gilded as with gold, his fur as black as midnight and his bulk was that of five wolves. Streaks of red, green and white were painted on his grim face and his mane and tail were decorated with swan feathers. He spoke his stentorian voice, 'I'm hunger. I'm thirst. Where I bite I hold till I die, and even after death they must cut out my mouthful from my enemy's body and bury it with me. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show me your enemies.'

Every one of the Waterfall Pack were howling all the while he spoke, and the echo eerily hung in the hall like ebbing floodwater. Pattertwig and Reepicheep were filled with such audacity hearing these words that they felt that they would rush out into the fog at any moment to overcome all the warriors of the world and more – they were unmistakeably words of some enchantment.

Lunetail spoke in an imperious voice to match Mooncub's own, 'Hunger! Thirst! Victory unto you and death unto your enemy! Rivers of Lifewater! Winter's Wrath! And now issue forth once more unto the foe...' and here he paused, his voice fleeting still about the hall, _'Seek out Gmork the Werewolf! Wanderer and Destroyer of Worlds! Abomination to the Living! Let not Narnia fall to his wickedness! Go forth Mooncub!' _Then Mooncub was gone like a wraith in daylight – all was as before. Lunetail was still, like a stone statue in a garden, then he turned to Reepicheep and Pattertwig,

'Never try to imitate the words you have just heard, for your own howling sakes! You might be unfortunate enough to say them correctly – and remain unanswered.' he said gravely.

'Whence does that wolf go?' asked Reepicheep, 'He seemed as gallant as warriors come, but there is more than deftness of tooth and paw to him.' Pattertwig thoughts dwelt more so on the words of Lunetail,

'A Werewolf!'

'Mooncub recites the Wolfchant.' Lunetail walked to where Mooncub had stood and turned again to speak, the drizzle from the waterfall did not seem to bother him, 'And with my blessing he goes to face the Werewolf. One who speaks the Wolfchant before his brethren shall bear the strength of the ancestors the pack – the fathers of the Waterfall Pack go with him on the hunt, and he shall know victory against Gmork.'

'A Werewolf?' reiterated Pattertwig, 'Why would you hunt one of those? I as a squirrel, would prefer to sup with other beasts rather than sup upon them, but who in the right mind of thinking would go through all the trouble of hunting and killing a Werewolf if it would taste little better a month-old dog's dinner, which I'm sure it wouldn't.' As sure as you would expect, Pattertwig's outburst aroused the curiosity of many pack members, chiefly due to the part about the 'dog's dinner.'

'Don't be ridiculous! We don't eat the Werewolf!' exclaimed Lunetail, 'We hunt Gmork because he seeks to destroy Narnia! He is neither living or dead, Dumb Beast nor Talking Beast! The centaurs say that he roams the worlds and menaces them in the same way. We cannot slay him, only send him from Narnia for a time before he returns again. It is said that he can only be killed by a Prince, and because Narnia is without a Prince we make it our business to rid Narnia of him. But he is becoming learned to our ways. He tries to use the Wolfchant against us, the fool! In the end, that will most certainly be the death of him for he is no wolf, and a forlorn creature. I would pity him for his ignorance if I could forget what a vile creature that he is.'

Reepicheep became very distressed hearing this, 'I shall then go with him, Lunetail! Wolfchant or none it is my duty to fight the Werewolf! I refuse to bring impeachment of my honour and lay down to sleep while Narnia is in danger! The absolute height of poltroonery it would be if I remained here when this adventure is to be had!' And Reepicheep would have been out of the Hall of Feasting in pursuit of Gmork if it was not for what happened next, and goodness knows what would have became of our dear Reepicheep!

The two foxes that went to summon Mooncub had not been idle in this short while. They had been furtively scouting the dells near to the Great River Waterfall, and now they returned to make their report to Lunetail. In the fashion that seemed customary they splashed into the light of the hall once more. They had a captive between them,

'Boo hoo! Lurt me go! Oi'm sickur being carried about loike a bundle o' lumber!' Reepicheep stopped in his tracks. All eyes turned to the plump, furry creature between the two foxes. It got to its feet with its arms set akimbo, 'What are youz all lookin' at? Oi'll tell my father if youz try and 'urt me! He's a fearsome foighter and he'll sink your bottoms when he gets at you!'

'Enough!' barked Lunetail, the creature quailed at his piercing voice.

'Lunetail, we found him wandering alone in the fog!' said one of the foxes.

'What is your name, beaver? You are lucky that foxes are all you came by wandering in the night.' Lunetail suspected that he would get no straight answer from the young beaver (who's name we know as Ruddletod). The beaver's spirit shattered all in a moment. His bottom lip began to quiver and his eyes glimmered in the gem-light, on the brink of an outburst of tears. Then he began to sob,

'The…the… dwaaaarves…hoo-hooo!' Everyone looked on uneasily; they all felt partially guilty for the blubbering beaver. Lunetail was simply bewildered as to how to treat the situation without upsetting Ruddletod further until finally a foxmaid ushered the weeping beaver off to soothe his sorrows with living gems and ruby juice.

'A beaver?' inquired Reepicheep, setting thoughts aside of pursuing the Werewolf, 'I was told that they had not been seen in these parts for many a year!'

Lunetail looked as puzzled as Reepicheep, 'That is true. A wolf clan of old, the descendants of Maugrim ("the one who chases girls up trees" his name means in the old wolf tongue), hunted them in revenge for aiding the rulers of that time – or so stories go. I do not care much for old stories, so it is your endeavour to ensue if you wish to find out what this creature is about.'

'And would you have done the same?' asked Reepicheep, venturing the question that many a creature dared not, 'You are wolves after all.'

'A just question, mouse. But again you challenge me – for the third time. A laggard, a liar and now I am to have you call me a coward. Who else would hunt such an informidable quarry? A slave? A Dumb Beast? You know that I am neither- '

'I do not speak in riddles or imply distain with a snake's tongue!' piped Reepicheep, 'It is I that would have you call me a poltroon and a twister of words! So my dept is repaid for naming you a laggard. And know now hereafter, if I had reason to insult you I would do it plainly and with the tip of my sword, wolf!' There was a pending silence in the hall right then. Pattertwig dreaded the wrath of Lunetail that would inevitably burst forth at any moment after having the worst of the zealous exchange.

'No, Reepicheep. If I am ever to fight you, for howling sakes, it will not be this night.' Lunetail said coolly, then he strode back among a throng of hounds.

'And you have the brush to call me a fool!' gasped Pattertwig, ensuring Lunetail was out of earshot, 'Oh very brave you are, but you didn't seem notice the rest of the Waterfall Pack ready to prance to the aid of Lunetail just then!'

Reepicheep's mood lightened hearing Pattertwig's voice, the thought of chasing Werewolves in the fog had completely slipped his mind, 'Gracious me! I was about to fight a wolf pack without first consulting my squire and battle-seasoned tactician! Clearly I am not fully recovered from my knock on the head from the tournament! We must return to find a badger nurse before I forget the difference between my whiskers and my tail and – '

'Okay! Ha-ha!' interrupted Pattertwig, 'I never knew you could be such a jester!' They both began to laugh,

'Nor did I! It must the effects of the ruby juice. It is stronger than a grapevine-nymph's wine! I feel merrier than…_hiccuuup!..._than a Marshwiggle's wife!'

'A Wigglemarshe's fife? What kind of…_hicuuup!..._kind of riddlecious things are you saying now, you silly moo-ouse?' said Pattertwig. It was in fact that all of the Waterfall Pack were acting abnormally and peculiarly happy. The most venerable of the wolves were seen chasing their tails and even outdoing the youngest of the hounds. There was cheerful singing all round (in fact _singing_ is not the word for it. It was more like a chorus of whining and whimpering, that if you heard it you would have thought that hey were all in severe agony. Even talking hounds and wolves are not the most gifted singers - to put it kindly).

Meanwhile, the foxmaid had earned Ruddletod's trust and seen him off to sleep, despite the racket. The beaver told her everything from his name to his escape from Chrumwhort's captivity. She related his tale to Lunetail and before the night was out he talked again with Reepicheep to tell him all about the beaver. His quarrel with Reeicheep was not really genuine as he revealed to the foxmaid that cared for Ruddletod. She was concerned about another uproar stirring up between them and waking Ruddletod, whom she had gone out of her way to get to sleep,

'I pray you two will keep yer peace while the beaver-babe sleeps! I mean it! If ye wake him I'm going to jump in the river and leave ye all alone to deal with him yerselves! How would ye like that?'

'There will be no need for that, I hope!' said Lunetail, 'There will be peace this night in the hall. My intention was only to avert the overly heroic mouse's attentions from taking off into the night chasing after Mooncub. It is Mooncub's sole task to subdue Gmork and send him from this world once more.'

And in the hour that the last of the Waterfall Pack had taken to their dreams, Mooncub stood a lonely shape in the moonlight in some forsaken place, for there the fog had dispersed, broadcast by the very battle that took place as he came upon his quarry – Gmork the Werewolf. So terrible was their meeting that the very elements became embroiled in the battle. Thunderclouds fell to the earth and fled again before their battle-roars. Soughing winds threw them hither and thither as they locked together with jaws and limbs. Rain fell heavy and wild to wash blood from fur and off to boil the rivers. And then the final deathblow fell - it was Mooncub who sang his victory song, howling to the moon and it was in his mind that his ancestors sang proudly with him and that brought him much joy, yet a great weariness came upon him and he fell to a long slumber, at peace to know that his purpose in Narnia had be fulfilled.

Authour's note: - _"I'm hunger. I'm thirst. Where I bite I hold till I die, and even after death they must cut out my mouthful from my enemy's body and bury it with me. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie on the ice for a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show me your enemies._" This I quote from Prince Caspian. It was spoken by the werewolf appeared at Aslan's How

The name of the Werewolf in this chapter – Gmork – is named after the werewolf in The Neverending Story. In The Neverending Story Gmork was in favour of destroying Fantasia, and was able to live on Earth as well, unlike normal creatures of Fantasia. Anyway, I worked that idea into the story as well.

Also –'Why are the Earthmen gnomes so happy? Aren't they supposed to be gloomy like in The Silver Chair?' NO I say! Maybe it was just possible that they were happy one time, before they were enslaved by a witch and all they ever did was talk to salamanders and eat living gems all day long in Bism …

And thank you for reading this chapter and its very long explanation, I hope you enjoyed it.


	13. 13 Alogalogalogalogboat!

**A-log-a-log-a-log-a-log-boat!**

Night did pass as morning came and, as you would be right to expect, there upon the sky once more was the sun, alone, as though the clouds had all fled from one of his fiery morning tantrums.

The morning light shone upon the placid lake. The water feebly licked the shores and all the surrounding woods were silent. Bunter was out on his routine swim at dawn – apparently, says Chrumwhort, the fish are all asleep at that time and as a result the water isn't so turbid meaning that is the best time to go gold-spotting on the lakebed. Weather that was true or not Bunter did not like being ridiculed by dwarves about things he knew much more about, so adamant he was that their theory was completely absurd.

Poor Bunter Beaver had never been in such a state of distress that morning. Now that he was alone he dwelt more than ever on the predicament he was in. Where ever had Ruddletod fled to? Had he done the right thing sending him off? He could not very well go to search for him now, goodness knows what those wicked dwarves would do to his wife if he failed to return to the lodge before noon, with or without any gold. I suspect that Bunter had all but given up hope on finding any gold there, that's if he ever seen any truth in Crumwhort's predictions at all. 'Oi must be the unluckiest beaver ever to be swum and sodden!' said he.

How grief had overcome him that morning! That is until, as he waded gloomily on the surface, he spied one thing upon the shore – he did not rightly know what it was. 'Oh moi! What on earth beez that? It looks loike it has a tail loike a big fish! O! And surely that cannot beez roitely true! No fishes oi ever seen has...well...looks loike that!' As you can tell Bunter was bewildered beyond a beaver's reckoning! If you saw any creature scratch their head anything like Bunter did that moment you wouldn't be wise to go near it in case it was riddled with fleas (not that Bunter had fleas – his wife was a very good impression on him when it came to cleanliness as you will read later in the story).

Finally he could bear it no more. He thought he knew everything and everyone in this part of the country and it would never do to leave this single oddity alone and misunderstood, so he submerged and swam right over to the shore throwing all caution downriver like leaves to the wind.

As he guessed that he had almost come upon the shore he emerged from the water with an unintended splash.

'Deep blueness gracious!' cried a very effeminate voice. Bunter Beaver stood there in the shallows in complete awe as he looked upon a mermaid sprawled across the shingle. Her locks were long and golden, with a face fair to look upon and her modesty preserved by two pinkish giant clam shells. 'You should paint a picture furry fellow, for I won't stay before you forever for you to gawk at!'

'Oi beg your pardon marm! Oi've never seen anyone loike you before!' said Bunter quite truthfully.

'I shall not wonder! All merfolk dwell far out at sea – always have. Why should I be like everyone else? Thought I one day. What of the places of lakes and rivers! Thought I! And so now here I am before you! And what does she think of our lovely land? Thinks you! I shall tell you! Not enough water to know what's deep and not nearly enough salt for seaweed! But I do say that some of the creatures here tell a tale better than the oldest mudcrab. I'd like to hear one from you furry fellow! And hang your flippers and fill your gills if you decide not to! I am in quite the mood for a good story.'

Bunter Beaver was actually a bit afraid of the mermaid and now even more so after her uttering that thing about hanging his flippers and filling his gills even though he did not quite understand what she meant – he did not like the sound of it. She did not mean anything threatening by it was just a figure of speech used by the merfolk.

Think as he might, no popular stories came to his mind –he was a very practical Beaver and was never fond of stories that had nothing to do with building things out of logs and felling trees. But before he knew he was doing it, his own story was pouring freely from his mouth. He told the mermaid every detail of the last couple of days taking special care to tell of him disrupting the meeting of the ducks and of his son's escape from Crumwhort's captivity and then finally he came to the part when he saw the mermaid upon the shore. The mermaid enjoyed the beaver's relation and judging by the expressions on her face throughout you would have thought that she was living through the whole thing herself. As Bunter Beaver finished with '...and oi really don't know what to do! If I go to look for little Ruddletod I condemn my wife to the mercy of murderous dwarves and if oi goes back to the lodge oi moight never see Ruddletod ever again!' And at that the mermaid gave a zealous applause,

'A simply wonderful story! Thank you good furry fellow! Simply fabulous! And I believe every word of it too!' she said while clapping regally. But Bunter thought little of her praises and he broke into a sorely honest and heartfelt cry.

'Come now! Stop that!' she said with her glowing smile, 'I just told you I liked your story and you go ahead and start blubbering like a beached whale! Do you know that I can help you?' Bunter looked up at her pleadingly and forgetting his tears,

'Will you? I mean...can you foind moi little Ruddletod?'

'Well I know how to deal with dwarves if they are anything like the sand-hobs of our land in the ocean depths. They would sell their teeth for a sparkling stone and reek blood and murder just to keep half a one from each other. It's the least I can do for such a good story! A mermaid's promise – peace you and your furry little wife will know before teatime this day, free of dwarf troubles and gold hunting.'

In quite another location in Narnia, a place where the Great River flows through, two raucous creatures' voices rattled out over the morning tranquillity,

'Oim a likkle beaver!

A beaver's son am oi!

Oi'll flutter me rudder,

O' rain, hail and thunder!

Sing along now don't be shoiy!

Heave and ho,

Upstream some row

In likkle boats so very dainty!

But if oi was you

With one beaver too few

Oi'd stay far from water for safety!

Oim a likkle beaver!

A beaver's son am oi!

Oi'll flutter me rudder,

O' rain, hail and thunder!

Sing along now don't be shoiy!

It runs and flows

And laps the shores!

And falls from the sky aplenty!

It's runny loike porridge

And tastes good in stew

And when bathtime come you'll never find me!

Oim a likkle beaver!

A beaver's son am oi!

Oi'll flutter me rudder,

O' rain, hail and thunder!

Sing along now don't be shoiy!

O' a likkle ould beaver am oi!'

And hear or be told – one of the voices was that of Pattertwig. The other was of course a beaver's - the very same beaver whose name is Ruddletod. Upriver went a company of three aboard a buoyant body of timber that was shaped into a hastily crafted log-boat by Ruddletod in the earlier hours. Quite a number of things took place that morning before now but for now I think you'll like to hear this part of the story first.

Ruddletod now sat perched on the stern of the vessel and sang merrily but every so often he would plunge into the water and help propel the log-boat forward against the current. Reepicheep sat amidships and rowed to port and starboard with a paddle grasped with both handpaws, not really in the singing spirit. And lastly there was Pattertwig positioned at the bow, joining in the chorus of Ruddletod's nautical song and rowing idly in the gentle breeze as he peered about the shores on either side of them, watching the trees pass them by and the features of the riverbanks. In fact this made him feel a tad seasick but being a very different squirrel than he used to be at the start of the story he kept his complaints to himself. Now that I come to think of it this journey upriver was not very eventful at all but significant though it is you will make better sense of it if we go back to hear about how it all came about.

The Waterfall Pack were all off in the place of dreams. If you have ever asked a Narnian wolf about that place you will have heard about how wonderful it is there for them. There are albino hares there in a moonlit valley as vast as the ocean and they are the most delightful creatures to chase, even though they can never be caught, but if you happened to never wake (which always seems to happen as the clouds cover the moon and the hare dives down a hole that is impossible to find afterwards) you would most definitely be chasing the creature for all eternity and not care for anything else. Many find themselves howling to the moon there (and the moon is even larger and brighter there than the Narnian moon if you can imagine it). But that is not the best of it – the moon there sits upon the sky with the grandeur of a king and if it is pleased with your howling it lays a silver path across the ocean that you can tread across to the edge of the world and onto the moon itself. The trouble is that everyone who is fortunate enough to have this dream can never remember how it went or if they even had it at all – would that not be typical of one of your best dreams though? And most likely the main reason you would like to have the same one again.

But there was one creature in the Hall of Feasting behind the Great River Waterfall who did not fall to sleep – that was Ruddletod the beaver. 'For guderness sake! How am oi asposed to sleep with all this bloomin' snoring and squeaking!' The one thing about Ruddletod was that he was raised a truthful beaver by his parents and now he spoke truer than ever. The hall was never silent, always echoes of grunts, sneezes and spontaneous whimpering could be heard in the place of the slumbering pack keeping him from his sleep. 'Oi'm moigtily hungry oi am! Oi reakons there'd some noice timbers for oi to nibble on outsoide!' And with that said to himself he began to waddle off on his rear legs to move in a way he thought was stealthy – which it most certainly was not! Several times he made very silly blunders, stumbling over slumbering bodies, stepping on tails and dragging his rudder (while uttering unspeakable imprecations that I will not repeat – I would make a wild guess that he probably learned them from the Crumwhort and his fellows). It's a wonder that the whole hall was not stirred out of their sleep but luckily, from his point of view, the pack lay snoozing deeply as before.

He was very much in the mind that he was off scot free as he neared a ledge that would lead him out of the hall dry, around the curtain of falling water, but as he took leave of the hall he did not go unnoticed.

The fog had now cleared considerably and there was a bit of light emerging upon the dells around the waterfall. But lo and behold! What did Ruddletod spy before his eyes? 'Oi say, those trees over yonder would make moiself a noice brekkerfast!' So off he went to the nearby trees. They were indeed a fitting size for his liking and his incisors were almost aching to chomp into something – he burst into a run and scrambled among the clump of tall pillars and wasted no time in devouring the bark and wood about their feet. I don't suppose it is worth thinking about if they were living trees or not.

The solitude that Ruddletod was enjoying, just him and his 'brekkerfast,' was not long-lived. 'And you call me a greedy glutton Sir Reep! This fellow is so hungry he is eating the trees, unless my eyes tell me lies – which they most certainly do not!' Ruddletod turned with a mouthful of slobbery splinters to see Reepicheep and Pattertiwg standing but a few paces from him. Even Ruddletod would have admitted then that they looked like two very valiant companions. Very proud they stood with their plumes upon their heads – Pattertwig's green and Reepicheep's red. The light , dim though it was, shimmered off Reepicheep's rapier hilt as it did with his bright pearly eyes. Pattertwig's superbly red fur looked very rich indeed and Ruddletod wondered at the sling he had bound about his waist and bulging pouch at is hip. He did not get a good look at their shields until later that hung upon their backs.

'Oi! Moi name beez Ruddletod! Not whatever you just called oi, Mr Squirrel!'

'And it is good to meet you Ruddletod! I'm am Sir Reepicheep, and this is Pattertwig.' said Reepicheep, ' Were you not told not to be wondering off? It is not wise to wander alone even though it is a fair morning.'

'It's foine really! Oi knows how to take care of moiself, oi does! Moi father taught me how to foight! Don't look at me loike that! Oi'll show you, just you watch!' Suddenly Ruddletod put his handpaws up in what Reepicheep and Pattertwig supposed was some sort guard, like a boxer might do. He began to swipe and swing awkwardly, his arms could never extended further than his own muzzle. He glanced at Pattertwig to see him feign an expression that made Ruddletod think that he was very impressed. The beaver stood on his rear legs, tottering and stumbling precariously back and forward and side to side in a display of what he thought was a feat of great agility – perhaps it was for a beaver standing on two legs but Reepicheep and Pattertwig thought it no less than comical and suppressed an outburst of laughter and very well they did it for Ruddletod was very glad with his performance in the end.

'I'm glad we have this lad on our side Sir Reep! I wouldn't want to fight someone with those kind of skills! What do you think?' Reepicheep seemed very occupied trying to keep himself from laughing and Pattertwig's question was a bit of a shock,

'A-aha, indeed! But its no reason to be out on your own. I doubt your parents would approve of that. '

'How do you know about moi parents?' blurted Ruddletod.

'That doesn't matter.' said Reepicheep, 'What matters is that we have decided to go and free them from the dwarves. We only need you to show us the way and – '

'And we don't want you to do any fighting at that!' interrupted Pattertwig, 'If they see what you can do they would be so scared their beards would turn white and wouldn't be able to fight back! Now that wouldn't be fair, would it?' Reepicheep shot an irate glare at Pattertwig, that was enough to put a lid on his jesting comments - for the moment.

'Oi don't know! Those dwarves have bows and arrowers! And they wear armour and all, and have axes. And do you know what else?...' He paused here and Reepicheep and Pattertwig found themselves wound up in suspense, waiting to hear what else these wicked dwarves had in store for them, 'They even - drink beer! '

'Oh, what a bunch of villains they are! I can't wait to get my paws on them!' cried Pattertwig in mock despair.

'Moi guderness, you two are gurtly brave foighters!' Ruddletod gasped.

'What say you then, Ruddletod? Will you take us to your father's lodge so that we may rid your home of these dwarves?' Ruddletod nearly leapt with glee at Reepicheep's proposal,

'O-o-ho-ho-oi! We'll get those nasty dwarves! Oi'll take you there!'

So that is how their upriver journey began. They decided not to say farewell to Lunetail and the Waterfall Pack now that another adventure was before them. Perhaps it was out of courtesy. Maybe they did not want to disturb their sleep. Perhaps Reeicheep felt that he still had some unsettled quarrel with Lunetail that he wanted to avoid for the time being. But if you look at it this way – would you go back into a cave full of sleeping wolves and hounds and foxes to wake the pack leader? You have put me to shame if you say you would because my courage would certainly fail me.

They went a bit up beyond the waterfall and up the river by the shore were it was dense with trees and Ruddletod was not short of choice when picking one to make a log-boat out of. In less than an hour and a half (enough time for Pattertwig and Reepicheep to find and eat breakfast themselves) Ruddletod had more than lived up to the saying _"as busy as a beaver" _because in that time he had felled a tree, hollowed it out and shaped it to his liking and there before the company fit for embarking on was neat little log-boat. Reepicheep and Pattertwig were busy too of course, eating slowly when you are hungry is tiresome work but they could not explain one little rhyme that was stuck in their head all that day that went like this:

_Oi'll make me mother a-log-a-log-a-log-boat_

_To float along-along-along-the-shore_

_Holes don't help a log-boat float_

_Only make it sink onto the riverbed floor_

Ruddletod had drummed it into their heads as they were absentmindedly eating away at their breakfast and talking much about Gumblefeather, of whom they had heard nothing of that morning . The beaver had been repeating the rhyme over and over for an hour and a half! Maybe it was the secret to his hard work. I have heard it said more than once that singing while you work often helps – but I think it really depends on what type of work you are doing.

Authour's note: Yes I sort of copied the Guosim shrew warchant from Redwall (by Brian Jacques) "Log-a-log-a-log-a-log-a-loooog!"

I felt that I should mention that.


	14. 14 Of the Seashell and ShingleShore

**Of the Seashell and Shingle-Shore**

Some people would think that they would be wise to say a thing like, "Oh, fauns are very fond of dancing at meetings upon Dancing Lawn! I have known them to dance all through the night without even blinking an eye – unless they get the shock of being winked at by a satyr, then they know to turn their hooves to walk the other way," or perhaps say a thing like, "Certainly not! You can skin a coney to make slippers for warm feet, and skin a beaver to make a hat to warm your head, but try and skin a dragon and you'll be warmed to cinders without fur or pelt to show for it." But to merely say," Dwarves like digging!" is an indescribably inaccurate understatement and the person who said it, I do believe, does not know much about dwarves at all!

A digging dwarf is a happy dwarf as you would have seen for yourself outside Bunter Beaver's lodge. For whatever dwarfish reason, if they were ordered by Crumwhort to do so, if they were simply bored after they had ate their fill of a wholesome breakfast (prepared by Bunter's wife Prixy) or if it was (the most likely explanation) for the sheer fun of it Shoveldigel and Swiglepick were hacking and delving with pick and spade to uproot the stumps of the felled trees around the lodge .

Shoveldigel swung his pickaxe and Swiglepick jabbed and hove with is spade with such fervour that even the most venerable of moles would have taken pride to witness these industrious fellows at their work. Their cheeks were red like ripe apples as they puffed and blew like the bellows and astonishingly through it all it was a credit to hear them sing a hearty old ditty,

"All through and through

Wel'll-dig-it-up! one-two!

What's underneath?

We'll work and seek!

I'm not a dwarf

With a beard too short

So I'll tuck it in my belt

For a mucky beard never helps!

All through and through

Wel'll-dig-it-up! one-two!

See the earthworms

Wiggle and squirm!

Smash the rocks!

Solid as granite blocks!

And sever every root!

Trees dare not dispute!

All through and through

Wel'll-dig-it-up! one-two!

Think of gems- gold-loot!

Right under our boots!

Through a badgers house

Or a home of a mouse!

They shouldn't have been

There rightly unseen!

All through and through

Wel'll-dig-it-up! one-two!

And bless my soul,

That's a mighty big hole!

But what's the fun

In deciding it's done?

Keep digging-digging-digging!

Hear picks ringing-dinging-pinging!"

There you have it, and I suppose even now you don't understand nearly enough how much fun those two were having – but it did not last.

'Eaun, eaun, eu-oi-oi-oi!' sang one mysterious voice. The two dwarves looked accusingly at each other,

'Where under earth did you get that from?' inquired Shoveldigel, 'That is not part of the song! Confound you! Now I feel tired!'

'Confound yourself! I knows the song better than you! "Eu-oi-oi-oi?" Old father Tufflebeard never taught you to say that!' said Swinglepick, getting very flustered.

'I never said the like, Blunderbrain! I thought it was...' Shoveldigel's words were stifled by the same cry again, but now it sounded closer,

'Eaun, eaun, eu-oi-oi-oi!' The pair dwarves got such a fright then that their best pick and shovel were hurled into the air. First they thought that the shadows in the forest were playing tricks on them but finally they convinced themselves of what they were seeing – there, making his way up the wending stream towards them, was an enormously fat man floating on a donkey!

'Euan, eaun,eu-o....!' he began again, until he toppled over off the donkey's back into the water in a floundering panic of sprawling limbs and boisterous water. Shoveldigel and Swinglepick were dwarves of wicked mind so their thoughts turned immediately to going back inside the lodge for their weapons to slay the fat man and his donkey. They turned to run towards a mossy old boulder where their secret tunnels descended beneath – but there was another unexpected thing that way too. This time the cry came from many voices, all sweet and airy and full of mirth,

'Euan, eaun, eu-oi-oi-oi!' they all chorused. From the thick of the woods dozens of little girls came capering and laughing. Hither and thither they went with such unnatural deftness, sometimes swift and haphazardly and then suddenly their erratic movements seemed pacified to that of one of airy appearance as though they were drifting in watery depths. They were dressed in vines that trailed and rustled along the floor in their wake. There was a boy as well who was wilder and bolder then they, with vines wreathed in his hair and clothed with lamb skins, he dashed right up to Swinglepick and Shoveldigel , much to their astonishment, and held his hand out graciously with a simpering smile.

They felt very helpless without any weapons to threaten the boy that had stopped them in their tracks. Swinglepick obliged to hold his hand out to return the greeting then in the midst of their bewilderment.

"Hi-you! Very-bushy-long-beards!' he chortled with an uncanny undercurrent in his voice that sent shivers through Shoveldigel and Swinglepick, 'Self-name-talk-a-goes-in-blabber-mouth: Bromios! and Bassareus!' Then pointing to his head he said, 'Ram! See-how not-a-massive-riddle!' Then for one petrifying moment they thought that the boy had thick spirally horns upon his head like that of a ram.

At this point Swinglepick was inadvertently grasping the hand of the boy in a manner not unlike an affable handshake. The boy burst into an unrestrained laugh and the girls' giggles rang out like silver bells. The rustling got so loud that it sounded more like the ocean rushing in upon them through the forest. Then they looked to their boots the vines were entwining round their stumpy little legs like ivy stifling a tree trunk and Swinglepick found the vines crawling up his arm from the that of the boy's.

They gave a cry of dismay and tore and yanked to free themselves of the overwhelming plants. Free of the leafy bonds and entwinements they hurried to the ancient rock and with one combined effort they hove it to one side and disappeared down the dank little hole, not bothering to seal it up again.

Not a shadow had shifted nor had the day begun to gloom when the dwarves announced their return. From the earthy depths of their tunnel they came bawling and roaring as fierce as fire in the forges. Up popped Swinglepick, his keen eyes flashing, with his bow bending and string taught with an arrow ready to loose. Then next came Crumwhort with a hefty war axe and Shoveldigel came blundering and stumbling behind him, laying them both in a heap,

'Graaagh! You blunder-bearded good-for-nothing!' Crumwhort cried. Shoveldigel did not argue as he took up his round shield and short sword that escaped his grasp in the fall – he never took pride in wearing cumbersome armour and didn't care much about what Crumwhort or any dwarf thought about it. But there was no denying, no matter what you may think of them, that they were fearless creatures in all their splendid war-gear and if it was not for their wagging beards you would have thought them more of grumbling mechanical tin-men making a clattering and rattling racket fit to raise the dead.

With Crumwhort and Shoveldigel preoccupied with their little scuffle it was Swinglepick, with his wits still about him, who saw first what lay before them. There were no frolicking girls to be seen or heard, no fey little boy in lamb skins with lots of names and certainly no floundering fat man with his donkey within an inch of the stream or beyond it, but the entire place was completely swamped with grapevines. From the edges of the stream to the boundaries of the clearing the vines grew wildly across the ground and crawled up the boles of the nearest trees.

'What in the blazes!' cried Crumwhort, louder than before, 'Where's the intruders? And where did all these fruity bushes come from? I thought you were digging up the stumps, not making us a garden like a pair of prancing garden nymphs!'

'It wasn't our doing!' said Swiglepick, 'We _were_ digging up the stumps until Shoveldigel started yodelling in the middle of our digging song!'

'Yodelling?' spat Crumwhort disdainfully.

'Don't listen to him! He was the one yodelling!' retorted Swiglepick.

'And you would call yourselves dwarves! Despicable!' scoffed Crumwhort. That of course kicked up quite a fuss between the two accused _yodellers, _which, as it seems, is something very un-dwarf-like and, therefore, most likely frowned upon among their folk.

It almost came to the point where the two dwarves would have turned their weapons on each other until Crumwhort asserted himself once more,

'Never mind! How in the smithies name did all these plants get here!'

'We was trying to tell you!' said Shoveldigel, 'It was people!'

'People?' inquired Crumwhort, seizing Shoveldigel and shaking him like a bucket of bolts, 'What kind of people? Humans? Come on, speak clear!'

'No-eaah-not humans!' he said hesitantly, 'They were – ah – like, woodpeople!'

'Bother you!'Crumwhort said, 'And where have these _woodpeople_ gone to? You don't know? That's because you are talking folly! Swinglepick – what have you got there?'

Swinglepick was hunched over on all fours as if he was peeping down a rabbit hole, and that is what Crumwhort and Shoveldigel would have guessed he was doing if they had not noticed what he was staring at. Right underneath his nose was an amply sized conch seashell. But that would never be enough to captivate a dwarf and distract him from his quarrelling, fascinating though conch shell spirals are, this one was all encrusted and sparkling with gems of every colour.

Suddenly then, out from the shell appeared a little hermit crab and pinched Swinglepick on his soft button nose,

'Ouch!' he shouted, and grabbed the seashell and tossed it in the direction of the lake. Crumwhort and Shoveldigel took off at a spurt and vanished into the thick of the grapevines. Swinglepick just stood there nursing his throbbing nose – then he realised what he had just done!

'Hey! Don't touch my shell you pair of nugget-swipers!' And then he was soon off in pursuit of the other two dwarves – and three dwarves all sprinting together in full armour tends to make a terrible clamour in the forest. Swinglepick had the worst time of it. He had to wade and jostle through the dense grapevines unlike Crumwhort and Shoveldigel who had blades to hack and cut at the thick foliage.

Of course, Swinglepick didn't think of following their path through the vines, he was thinking desperately more of getting ahead and finding the seashell before they did and so its not surprising that he arrived lastly in sight of the lakeshore – a sight that he would not have relished if he had lived longer than that day.

Crumwhort had abandoned his war axe and was struggling with Shoveldigel over the possession of the conch shell upon the mire and in the watery shallows. They were inseparable from that precious thing now that their hands had been laid upon it and their eyes had beheld its splendorous adornments. It was Crumwhort's covetous mind that had eluded its enchantment over him for a second long enough to contrive a wicked deed.

In one deft movement Crumwhort turned Shoveldigel's own blade against him. The short sword found its way past his cuirass and through his mail in one swift thrust drawing his life from him – Shoveldigel fell with a thud and a splash.

There Crumwhort stood in a state of euphoria – just him now and his precious conch shell of wonderful gems. He heard a _twag_, then a _whizz _and the last thing he knew was a smarting on his neck and the shell flying from his grasp. And thus fell Crumwhort, for he was struck in the neck with a well aimed arrow from Swinglepick's bow.

Swinglepick dropped his bow and rushed upon the fallen two. He fell on all fours once more and scrambled about the shallows. Looking up, there on the still water was the conch shell with all the winking gems upon its back. How Swinglepick longed to have it in his hands again! And what a shock it was to him when it disappeared beneath the shimmering water!

Into the cold depths he leapt after it – quiver and arrows, armour, beard and all! He strained his eyes to peer into the murkiness. At that moment he felt that he was in luck for where the sunrays cut through the sullen gloom the bright little gems of the conch shell caught the sunlight as it lay but a little way from him upon the lakebed.

He strove towards it, and how he cursed his armour – furious but inaudible oaths, never considering that he could not walk on the lakebed without it.

Forgetting that he was not wearily tramping through a field or through a pitch dark mine, he began to gasp for air and of course he only got a mouthful of foul water but at this point, charmed by the lure of precious stones, getting his hands on the seashell seemed the most important thing, so he trod onwards, deeper and deeper, and closer and closer he got to the seashell. Almost within its reach he stooped and stretched his arm out anxiously, then suddenly, he knew no more. But with the one little ounce of consciousness that lingered he could have sworn that he seen a mermaid as his eyes strayed ruefully to the bright surface. And that was the end of Swinglepick, and I do not doubt that he is still on that lakebed to this day eternally dreaming of digging for gems and gold nuggets the size of elephants.

It was, in fact, that he was not mistaken, the fool though he was. That very mermaid that he seen now sat upon a shingle-laid lakeshore in the shadow of the trees, that very same place where she spoke with Bunter Beaver. And now once again Bunter stood very anxious before the mermaid,

'Moi guderness, what have you been up to? Oi wonders if'n you've beez seeing those awful dwarves, have you?' he would say, and other impatient things of the same kind but all that the mermaid would say in return was,

'Wouldn't you like to know! It is not quite teatime yet, so be quiet, Nosey-Parker!' And of course that made him all the more curious, but now that teatime had just about come around he ventured to ask again, but there was no need for it.

'The deed is done!' said she, and just then the little hermit crab with the splendorous shell on his back scurried out of the shallows of the lake and onto the stony shore, 'Do you know my name furry fellow?' she asked Bunter.

'No! Oi'm gurtly sorry marm but oi don't!' he admitted apologetically.

'Well know now hereafter that it is Lady Periwinkle! And let never you say that I am not a lady of her word! Go back to your little home. No dwarves will you find there. Never again will you search vainly in the lake for gold. And never again will you find me upon this lake shore, for I go back to the kingdoms in the East with the story of Beavers and Dwarves to tell. Oh think how they will love me for telling such a story! (Stories about fish and coral get very dull you know). Farewell!' And as quick as that she was gone. She took the little hermit crab and the gem-encrusted conch shell and flopped into the lake never to be seen by beaver eyes again.

Bunter Beaver was _very_ confused, and for many a year from that day he never slept without dreaming about mermaids and underwater kingdoms. Now Bunter had quite had his fill of strange happenings for one day and he was tired. It seemed very likely to him then that the mermaid was playing a trick on him and he went on his way with the full expectation of getting back to the lodge and having to put up with the dwarves for another evening of "Where's my gold you lazy rudder-rat!" How he dreaded the thought! Feeling that nobody had any sympathy for himself but himself he gazed across the lake and laid his eyes on a log, adrift off in the distance – at least that is what he thought of it at first. That was until he noticed shapes, like creatures sitting upon it – then he was sure that the shapes were some kind of creatures because two of them were rowing. It was advancing towards the opposite shore of the lake – the very spot were the channel led from the lake to his lodge.

'Oh moi!' he cried, 'Oi better warn those creatures! If'n those dwarves catchem they'll beez in a bundle of trouble!' And off he swam frantically across the lake.

'Ahoy mate! I see trees once more! All ashore that's going ashore!' cried a distinctly squirrel-like voice. It was the voice of Pattertwig. Him with Reeicheep and Ruddletod, were nearing the leaning trees in the logboat. Reepicheep at once decried the slain bodies of Crumwhort and Shoveldigel lying face-down in the mire, their armour still had a sheen about it in the shadows beneath the canopy. Ruddletod's eyes were keener though and he dove into the turbid lake and came upon the shore before the logboat.

'It's those nasty dwarves! There're dead!' cried Ruddletod as he stood before them in the shallows, 'Oi told youz, moi father was a gurtly fierce foighter! He's stuffed both of'em!' Reepicheep and Pattertiwg were unsteady on their footpaws as they disembarked but made their way none the less to the spot where Ruddletod was.

'Horrid business!' Pattertwig said, 'Always is when they get stuck in the neck! Your father is a good shot with a bow! That's a Queen Susan job that is!' obviously referring to the arrow in Crumwhort's neck.

'Oh moi!' said Ruddletod, pondering if that was to be a good thing or not, 'Oi'll have to tell him that when oi foinds him, he'll be very pleased to hear that!'

'There were only three dwarves, did you say?' asked Reepicheep, 'We can't let our guard down until we find the third. If he is armed like these two there is no easy task ahead of us if we are to overcome him.'

'Oi thinks he moight be back at the lodge drinking moi father's beer! That's what they always do this toime of the day.'

'Villains!' shouted Pattertwig, who was now right above their heads on an overhanging tree branch, 'Drinking all your father's beer! Vile ould villains the lot of them!' Ruddletod nodded his head vigorously in agreement,

'Oi know!' he gasped.

''Then we should head there first.' said Reepicheep, 'You should lead the way Ruddletod.'

'And remember,' interrupted Pattertwig, 'Don't you go and try taking him all on your own if we find him! We will sort him out, Sir Reep and I!' Ruddletod did not seem in the least bit disappointed despite his brave words,

'Oi'll have to troi and not foight'em boi moiself! Oi'll leave'em to youz two, oi will!'

'And what beez all this talk about foightin' and whatnot!' broke in a comparatively husky voice, 'There will be no foightin' done here! You were raised better than that, oi'll reakon!'

As Reepicheep turned around he discovered another beaver, full-grown and as stout as he was tall. It was none other than Bunter Beaver himself. That was a merry meeting between two creatures that Narnia has never seen the like of as Bunter and Ruddletod found each other once more.

Ruddletod introduced his new friends, and Bunter thanked them for delivering the young beaver home safely. They went together back to the lodge (the two beavers were lost as to where all the grape vines came from), by which Reepicheep and Pattertwig entered through the dwarf tunnels, and they did not find a third dwarf after all.


	15. 15 A Beauty Needs her Badgersleep!

**A Beauty Needs her Badger-sleep!**

Prixy was your typical Beaver's Dam wife. Her passion lay in the field of cooking, and she was definitely a trustworthy cook at that. That is if you believe in the saying "never trust a skinny cook," and if you were to go by that advice you need not worry your head about Prixy because she was as 'well fed' as beavers come, to put it plainly.

Hand her a dozen pavenders or trout fresh from the river and she'd have them gutted, boned and fried to perfection in a jiffy. Oh yes, and every morning she'd be up at the crack of dawn scuttling and clattering about the kitchen, like a beaver wife possessed, rolling and beating dough and firing up the ovens to bake loaves and scones and the whole lodge would smell as sweet as a bakery. Prixy no doubt won the heart of her husband through his stomach with her fabulous fare she produced. But I'm sure her personality and graceful way with words helped in charming old Bunter Beaver into settling down with her by the lakeside,

'Oooh! Where beez them ungurtful scoundrels? Oi will pepper their muzzles and boil their bottoms when oi get moi handpaws on them!' came a voice from behind the pantry door.

'Moi gudderness! Mother beez locked up in the big food cupboard Father!' cried Ruddletod. He was first into the lodge and ran to the kitchen area instinctively to find Prixy.

'Don't worry! Oi'm comin' moi precious Water Lily!' shouted Bunter as waddled hastily into the kitchen behind Ruddletod. He took down a key that hung by the pantry door frame (one of the dwarves amazingly had the sense to put it back there where it could be easily found). He had the door open in a twinkling and out from the pantry tumbled Prixy. 'How ever did they fit you in there?'

'Oh moi Bunter!' she gasped,'And Ruddletod!' She hugged them both.

'It's all okay naow Mother! Father foighted the dwarves and naow they won't be bothering us anymore and drinking all of Father's beer!' said Ruddletod with unquestionable enthusiasm.

'No they certainly will not!' said Bunter Beaver, feeling quite proud to have a son with such respect for him, even if what he believed about him was not altogether true.

'Foighting!' she cried, 'What kind of example beez that for Ruddletod? Beavers were never gurtly known for foighting, and they certainly aren't going to start naow!'

'But he serpently showed them villains what for, moi Father did!' said Ruddletod.

'Ah! –' interrupted Prixy, 'Oi'll have no foighting talk in this lodge, oi won't! Naow we can't let all this dwarf business get in the way of our supper! You two look loike you haven't been bathed in a week! Off you go! Wash up and boi the toime you beez done oi'll have supper ready! Oi have'nt cooked a decent meal in absolute donkeys! That Crumwhort never loiked moi cooking much, ee fancied himself a better cook than oi!'

'Hurray!' cheered Ruddletod, 'Oi luv having moiself a bath, oi does!' And he dashed over to a large wooden tub by the hearth, where the fire was lively and bright, and went about filling it with bails of river water. He had just missed the arrival of Reepicheep.

'_Knock-knock-THUD!' _Reepicheep threw back a hatch in the middle of the kitchen floor and popped out of a hole in the ground.

'And here beez Ruddletod's mouse-friend, darling!' said Bunter, 'You can beez thank'n him for bringing him safely back here!' Reepicheep dusted himself off as he stood before the two beavers.

'Moi gudderness!' Prixy exclaimed, 'We are very gurtful Mister Mouse for your help! You are moightily welcome to stay and have supper with us, oi say! What beez your name koind sir?'

'Sir Reepicheep, madam.' said he, and gave a handsome bow.

'Naow that's the koind of gentlebeaver manners oi can aboide boi! It's very noice to meet you Sir Reepicheep!' she said with delight and nodding approvingly.

'Naow, naow! Sir Reepicheep doesn't want all this fuss over him, oi'm sure!' Come sit at yon table young sir and rest boi the foire! Where beez that squirrel-friend of yours?' asked Bunter.

'Pattertwig won't be joining us unfortunately,' replied Reepicheep, 'He mentioned that he had some catching up to do (whatever he meant by that) after taking one look at the entrance of the dwarf tunnel, then took himself off into the woods.'

'That beez a shame!' said Bunter, 'Oi just hope he beez careful on his own owt there!' Reepicheep did not share Bunters concern in the least,

'I wouldn't worry about Pattertwig.'

'Pattertwig beez a moighty good foighter too, Father!' shouted Ruddletod as he filled the tub with a last bail of water.

'Never you moind about foightin,' young'n!' said Prixy, 'Get yourself into that bath and make sure you beez using lots of soap!'

Ruddletod happily obliged and plunged right in. Reepicheep sat at the table while Bunter gave himself a quick rub down with some water and soap and dried himself off by the fire, and he felt as fresh as a daisy in springtime. Prixy remained in the kitchen bustling about hurriedly and making a tremendous clamour with the pots and pans and crockery and all the while Ruddletod was singing one of his favourite songs paddling most contently in the tub,

'Falling gurtly alot comes the rain-water!

Spattering and pattering and flooding up holes!

Oh, it is serpintly a gurtly serious matter,

For the earthworms, rabbits and moles!

But nothing beats the soapy bath-water

That bubbles between moi toes!

Lookit me Father and Mother!

Oi can blow bubbles through moi nose!

River-water runs moightily fast,

Oi wonders what beez the hurry?

Reaching Ocean-water at last.

Oh! The joys of being furry!

O' when moi work is done and day is past,

And last noight's dreams beez blurry,

There's naught loike a noice warm bath,

With lots soap ,and steaming all a-flurry!'

One by one the dishes filled the dining table and mouth-watering aromas filled the air, and more and more bath water filled the puddles as it splashed upon the floor as Ruddletod capered about the tub. Reepicheep and Bunter conversed over a modest helping of his renowned beer and told him not to mention any wolf-stories with Prixy around as they tend to unsettle her terribly.

Finally, Ruddletod had dried himself off and joined the table, too small to peep above the stacked-up food before him. And lastly Prixy seated herself and they tucked into their long-awaited supper.

They ate and talked long into the evening until everyone was too tired to do any washing up. Reepicheep seen no harm in telling them of his own business about looking for the lamppost, and it was reassuring to hear it from Prixy and Bunter that he was on the right tracks. Bunter ventured to mention his dealings with the Lady Periwinkle, but Prixy crudely dismissed the whole thing as nonsense and from that day he kept that story to himself so you are fortunate enough to hear it. They would have all been off to bed right then if a very unexpected incident did not happen, which you will learn of later.

If Bunter seen it as a shame not to have Pattertwig accompanying them, Pattertwig didn't see much shame in casually exploring the woods by himself, in fact he would rather have been doing nothing else in the world other than that. You might think a thing like, "If you have seen one oak tree you have seen them all," but that was never the case for Pattertiwg. He was not happy until he had he had pattered and hurried along every tree bough and leapt from each tree to the next in every way possible.

He started off quite idly, but with each and every successful jump that he made his exploring frenzy amidst the canopy became very frantic and lasted long into the evening before his weariness finally hit him. It would be unlike him not to place foraging for nuts as highest priority, but it just goes to show that even squirrels can surprise you when you think you have just started to know them well, because he had forgotten about it altogether and now dusk had draped the shadows about the woods putting nut gathering completely out of question.

He stole down to the young garden of grapevines and made himself a feast of nothing other than the most juicy and tasty grapes – the finest that he had ever tasted in fact, but he did not gorge himself too much for he didn't really fancy waking up with another belly-ache again.

Now dusk had long past and the night found Pattertwig sprawled across a thick, lofty limb of a tree and his snoring heralded the fact that he was out for the count, so he was oblivious to the two owls that had alighted high in one of the trees across the way of the grapevine garden that surrounded Bunter Beaver's Lodge.

'O-o-o-oh! I think I'll land here!' hooted the one with brown speckled plumage, landing on a bare, outcropping branch that overhung the grapevines.

'O-o-o-oh! Me to-o-oo!' hooted a white owl as it arrived beside the brown one.

'A whoo-wonderful night it is for flying! Tru-u-uly it is!' said the brown owl to the white owl. The white owl nodded in agreement,

'Whoo! Perfectly dark with not much light! Tru-u-ue!' said the white owl. And the brown owl looked very uncomfortably at the white owl.

'O-o-oh! I wish you weren't so terribly white Lunaplume! Even Wilnoe the mole, as blind as a bat, could spot you a mile off! Tru-u-uly!'

'Whoo-what?' hooted Luneaplume, who was clearly a lady-owl as she hooted in an oddly effeminate way, 'Stuff a feather in it Gumblefeather! What do you know about bats? I can't help the colour of my feathers! Whoo-you will just have to deal with it! 'Tis tru-u-ue!'

'Where's all this hooting coming from?' piped a shrill voice, 'Owls! I should have known it. Be gone! Be gone with the both of you!' From out of a tree hollow a fierce little chipmunk rushed at Lunaplume and Gumblefeather and off they fluttered. They soared across the grapevine garden hooting indignantly and had the right mind to go back and take that chipmunk for a little flight that he would not soon forget. But in the end they didn't and by chance they landed on the very branch that the slumbering squirrel Pattertwig lay on.

'Whoo-Who?' Lunaplume hooted, 'Gumblefeather, there is a squirrel sleeping here! Perhaps we should-'

'O-o-o-oh! My goodness!' Gumblefeahter cried, 'It's Reepicheep's squirrel-friend Pattertwig!'

Pattertwig began to wake, and the first thing he saw was two pairs of gaping eyes that gleamed out of the night-gloom staring directly at him and in his fright he leapt right off the branch and fell into the thick of the grapevines below. The two owls looked anxiously at each other until a rustling stirred in the garden that roused their curiosity and in a trice Pattertwig was up the tree and upon the branch once more.

'Gumblefeather!' exclaimed Pattertwig, but making an effort to whisper for it seemed the right thing to do,'Where in Aslan's name have you been?'

'Whoo-wouldn't you like to know!' he replied, and noticing that Pattertwig was staring cautiously at the white owl Lunaplume he continued, 'This is Lunaplume, a very old friend of mine.' Lunaplume seemed to smile warmly with her eyes and Pattertwig returned a genuine smile in reply. 'We have been to the lamppost and back and couldn't wait any longer for you slow-pokes so we came back for you, hoo-hoot!'

'Pattertwig! Pattertwig! Patterwig!' came a voice from the thicket at the foot of a nearby tree. Evidently someone was eavesdropping on the conversation.

'What?' he replied curtly.

'Tell those owls to stop all that hooting! I can't sleep!' exclaimed the mysterious voice.

'Mind your own beeswax and nutshells!' said Pattertwig. He then turned back to Gumblefeather, 'It was very thoughtful of you to come back for us! I'm sure it's more likely that you have had your fill of moths for one night and decided to come by here and wake up decent creatures with your incessant hooting!'

'Whoo-that was my mistake! They are actually called _bats_! Moths are more like butterflies, tru-u-uly! But bats like to eat the moths, and I like to eat the bats, and there is none left by the lamppost now because we ate them all! Hoo-hoot!' he said patting his downy underbelly with his wing.

'Whoo! Listen to the expert on bats!' added Lunaplume, 'If it wasn't for me you would still be calling them _moths,_ and you probably wouldn't have found the lamppost at all, tru-u-u-uly!'

'That is not tru-u-u-ue at all,' argued Gumblefeather, 'Although, I wouldn't want to go there too often. The lamppost is not as bright as it used to be, but it is still awfully bright, 'tis tru-u-ue!'

'Whoo-hoot! It is awfully bright indeed, Tru-u-uly! Yo-o-ou are right there!' hooted Lunaplume.

Suddenly they found themselves being assailed with pebbles that flew out of the darkness! 'I can't put up with that all night! Go away you owls and hoot somewhere else! A Beauty needs her Badger-sleep you know!' Now beneath the branch that they shared they saw that a badger was throwing the pebbles up at them.

The two owls flew off immediately but Pattertwig remained perched there resolutely. 'I hope you are happy now! But I think you meant to say "a badger needs her beauty-sleep!" I hope you don't sleep a wink for all your pebble-throwing, even though ! Which, I might say you, aren't very good at!'

'I think I know what I said to you Pattertwig!' she said, 'And what would you know about pebble-throwing? Goodnight!'

'My name is none of your business, you stripy badger you! And I know more about throwing pebbles than you might think!' he replied, but the badger was already gone (and not likely to be pursuing sleep again, you can bet your best breakfast, as badgers are nocturnal) and presently he decried the two owls (Lunaplume more so than Gumblefeather) upon another branch just a little bit away.

He nimbly made his way to the awaiting company in the other tree but as he arrived he barely managed a word before he was desperately hushed by Lunaplume,

'S-s-s-s-sh! Hoo-hoot!' They remained silent. There came a piercing shriek from the west, like that of a large preying bird – an eagle or a hawk perhaps. The unmistakable beating of wings came closer and got louder, slow and lethargic it sounded. The shriek sounded again as a shadow passed overhead and Pattertwig trembled,

'What is it?' he gasped only to be hushed again by both owls this time,

'S'-s-sh! Hoo-hoot! It must be a very big bird!' whispered Gumblefeather.

'Whoo-we are the biggest winged-beasts in these parts! Goodness knows what it is!' gasped Lunaplume. The sound of the beast's wings drumming the air was unsettling as it circled the grapevine garden aloft. Once or twice they caught the silhouette of the beast against the overcast night sky, but they were still at a loss as to who or what the creature was.

'Whoo! Its looking for a place to land I'd guess!' Lunaplume whispered.

'Hoo-hoot!' hooted Gumblefeather, unsure whether to speak or not while ruffling his feathers restlessly. Luneaplume's prediction began to seem more and more likely to be true as the beast swept the treetops.

A great shadow of a creature it was. It fell from the sky and descended swiftly into the midst of the pond of shadow that the garden seemed to be in that late hour. There followed all at once a mighty crash and the sound of thrashing water. Then came a chorus of exclamations and oaths and then, oddly enough, very sincere apologies somewhere amidst darkness of the garden. If any creature was not stirred by the hooting of the owls that night, they were most certainly wakened by this unanticipated disturbance!

**Author's note:** I feel that I must say that I do not claim to have thought up the way that the Beavers talk in this story. At first I thought perhaps I could "borrow" certain phrases and words from the way moles talk in Redwall stories but that idea has completely went out the window in this chapter because I am practically copying how they talk for the beavers. In my opinion I think it suits the beavers – I am not going to change it now anywho! DEFINITLY NOT!


	16. 16 A Helping Hoot!

**A Helping **_**Hoot!**_

Inside Bunter Beaver's Lodge the very unexpected incident that I spoke of before had now occurred – to everyone's surprise, and it was not at all a pleasant one at that. Bunter Beaver very much liked surprises of the pleasant sort, like when Prixy makes something for dinner other than fried fish or if she takes the fancy to put an upside-down sunflower on her head for a sunhat to accessorise herself – he delighted in those kinds of surprises very much! But say for instance that he was sitting contently down to dinner one night with his wife and son (after a long parting) including a special mouse-friend of his, only then to receive his surprise, and that surprise was an uninvited guest. Even then Bunter might not have minded much for he was a kind-hearted creature and Prixy always cooked with plenty of food to spare. I'd say it would depend very much on the guest's manner of arriving and what kind of beast the guest was when it came to making an impression on what Bunter Beaver thought of them.

Well, I can tell you that Bunter did not think very much of how this creature arrived, for he had crashed right through the roof of his lodge leaving a great gaping hole - very useful if you like to look at the stars and you don't mind a bit of a chill, but Bunter did not take much interest in stars.

'You must be bloomin' joakin!' bawled Bunter Beaver, as he examined the gaping fracture in the roof that expanded all down the wall as well. Prixy and Ruddletod's reaction was one more of fright and Reepicheep was simply bewildered as he drew his sword.

'Sorry! Sorry! Ee's dreadfully sorry!' cried the unexpected guest desperately as he struggled to free himself from the crevice that he appeared to be stuck in for he was very large. Indeed it was only his feathery eagle-like head that they could see, and he had a hoarse, croaking voice, 'Don't hurt'em, Gentlebeasts! Don't put that sword near'em! Hatchawk's stuck, ee is!'

The eagle-like creature (who addressed himself as Hatchawk) ceased trying to tug its head out of the hole and stopped breathless, but there was still a great deal of panic from Prixy and Ruddletod,

'Foight him Father loike you did with the nasty dwarves!' he cried

'Naow son there will be no need for foighin,' oi hope!'

'Foight the bloomin' thing Bunter! Get it owt of here!' pleaded Prixy, but Bunter had no intentions of the sort as he set his eyes upon the menacing hooked beak of the stranded creature.

'Tell us your name Sir!' demanded Reepicheep, pointing his rapier threateningly, 'Why have you destroyed this good beaver's home? Speak!'

'Hatchawk, like ee said!' the beast replied, 'Hatchawk never meant to do it! Ee said ee was sorry!'

'Hatchawk moi rudder!' scoffed Bunter, 'You're loing! What beez your real name? And haow beez you expecting to fix moi roof, oi should loike to know!'

'I think he's telling the truth Bunter.' said Reepicheep, 'I think Hatchawk here is a gryphon, they were never known to lie in the old stories, and always appeared in times of war.'

'What is Round-Rat saying about Hatchawk, Mouse? Ee can't understand a word the Round-Rat says!' the gryphon cried.

'Oi beg yore pardon! Gryphon or noawt, there is still a gurtly large hole in moi roof and –'

Bunter paused as Hatchawk began to stir again. The whole lodge seemed to shake as the gryphon squirmed and struggled. The sturdy timbers began to moan under the throes of the gryphon's exertion until finally with a last effort a whole fraction of the wall and roof pulled away, flooding the grapevine garden with firelight as Hatchawk tumbled across the stream and fell among the vines.

Bunter stared helplessly out at the woods now where the shadows danced. He realised that at least half of the whole structure had been destroyed and he almost wept. Prixy approached Reepicheep earnestly and began to whisper,

'Oi'm not gurtly worried abowt the lodge loike Bunter is! Oi just want that beast away from here, Sir Reepicheep! Oi gurtly hope it does't come back for some supper!'

'I assure you that there is no evil in that beast. He means no harm, I'm sure of it.'

Prixy was not the least bit assured despite what Reepicheep might say.

'Moi gudderness! It's getting up again! Moi-moi-moi!' she whimpered, and it was plain to Reepicheep the distress she was in, and took it upon himself to see the creature away from the beaver family's home. He ambled his way out across the little stream and came before Hatchawk the gryphon. The gryphon looked very noble indeed as the firelight played upon his features, now sitting proudly and calm like an obedient hound in a king's hall. His hawk-like wings were folded behind his golden-brown, lion-like body and he set his keen shimmering eyes upon Reepicheep as he approached.

'Hail there, my good gryphon!' said Reepicheep 'I am Sir Reepicheep!' The Gryphon eyed Reepicheep mischievously,

'_Sir _Reepicheep, does ee hear you say? Hatchawk never seen this one in Granitegale's Army who fight upon the Western Wilds! Hatchawk is inclined to eat ones ee does'nt know and ones who claim titles that don't belong to them!'

Reepicheep was completely taken back by what the gryphon had just said – Reepicheep had now come upon an unpleasant surprise specially meant for himself, that being a very important lesson – "Never talk to strangers! Or talk to them expecting them to befriend you. Especially the strangest sort that looks as though the person who put them together got very mixed up in the process!" Amazing how one can gain wisdom from one's mistakes! Reepicheep never made that mistake again.

'Is that what you call a challenge?' exclaimed Reepicheep, wielding his sword, 'For you will not eat this mouse without a fight! I fight in Aslan's name!'

'No! Nay! Never!' Hatchawk cried, 'Once Hatchawk ate a Field-Mouse! And once ee ate a Dormouse! Ee even ate a Dozen-Mouses all at once, once! But Hatchawk has never eaten a _Hasty-Mouse_, which you most certainly are! I don't fight my prey Hasty-Mouse! Ee will eat you only if you fail to prove that you are no better than a Dumb-Beast. Dumb-Beasts can never finish Hatchawk's Song. Only one word Hasty-Mouse must guess.'

Brave though Reepicheep was he was not stupid. He fancied his chances at whatever this gryphon was proposing much more than fighting the fearsome-looking beast.

Just then, Reepicheep thought that he heard a disturbance close by in the darkness of the wood (and a particular sound put him to mind of some creature nibbling, like a squirrel busying himself with a nut, coincidently), but his immediate attention was on the matter with the gryphon.

'Go ahead then. I will hear your song. But what if I guess correctly?' asked Reepicheep.

'That will never happen!' laughed the gryphon haughtily, 'If the Hasty-Mouse guesses correctly the word of Hatchawk's Song Hasty-Mouse can go free and ee won't eat Hasty-Mouse!'

'That's not good enough!' said Reepicheep, 'I want something of you in return!'

'Okay!' sighed the gryphon, 'Hatchawk will do whatever you wants – and more! There! Now, one guess Hasty-Mouse has! Is Hasty-Mouse ready?'

And as Reepicheep nodded in silence the gryphon began to sing, or croak more like in a sing-song way. And while he was singing he rose on all fours and began to prance blithely round and round in circles, which began to look very comical, around and about the confounded mouse (he did not find it very comical considering that his life was at stake although it made him quite dizzy),

'If One cares or sees, to the east there is seas,

One'll know Sea stretches further than one can look!

But there came a day, that on the beach there lay,

A Seahorse on the sand forsook!

A mane of scales ee had, emerald-green was Seahorse clad,

And with the Land Seahorse did not abide!

Stranded Seahorse was, no more swimming now because

Seahorse was too slow for the ebbing tide!

Two Giants came then, and thought Seahorse was slain,

So Two Giants put Seahorse in a wheelbarrow!

Into the woods Two Giants trundled, with Seahorse in barrow bundled,

And they listened to a song from a fleeting Sparrow.

Night came soon, Two Giants waved to the moon,

And Two Giants buried Seahorse inside of a boot!

A Night-Bird Two Giants heard, and understood not a word,

For all Night-Bird ever did was _HATCHAWK!'_

The gryphon stopped suddenly and glared jauntily at Reepicheep who was cudgelling his brains as to what answer Hatchawk was looking for.

'Well? Does Hastey-Mouse know the word? No? Then one more time will Hatchawk sing!'

And the gryphon willingly croaked out the same thing again, seemingly enjoying himself more than a respectable gryphon should do as he pranced around Reepicheep in the garden. It did not help Reepicheep in the slightest, only making him dizzier and more confused than before – he seen no light at the end of this tunnel. What on earth could the answer be? thought he, and the gryphon delighted in the puzzlement that he observed on Reepicheep's face as he stopped the second time,

'Hasty-Mouse! Why does ee look so befuddled? Slow and steady will not help Hasty-Mouse win this race, and nor will haste help in any case that involves a bit of thinking! What is poor Hastey-Mouse to do? Hatchawk will sing one more time, Hastey-Mouse. Then Hastey-Mouse must let Hatchawk eat'em!'

And that truth suddenly came to Reepicheep, for if he denied Hatchawk permission to eat him it would result in impeachment of his honour (for he had agreed to take part in the game, and to play a game properly you must abide by the rules, so this was as good as giving the gryphon his word), and he could definitely not have that happening!

So Hatchawk sang and danced again and came to the last verse,

'Night came soon, Two Giants waved to the moon,

And Two Giants buried Seahorse inside of a boot!

A Night-Bird Two Giants heard, and understood not a word,

For all Night-Bird ever did was-'

'_HOO-HOOOT!' _interrupted a voice, or a pair of voices from the sound of it, but so involved was Hatchawk with his singing efforts that he had no doubt that it was Reepicheep who said it,

'How did Hasty-Mouse know that!' he spat, and shot a contemptuous look at him.

'But I did not tell you my answer.' said Reepicheep coolly, but refrained from taking his eyes off the gryphon, suspecting some kind of deception from him.

'Then who did? Hatchawk sees no other beast here, and it is only with Hasty-Mouse that Hatchawk is playing!'

Reepicheep sensed that luck was now in his favour (and cared not from where the '_hoot'_ had come from at that moment) and ventured a question to finally put out his worst expectations,

'And to whom does the victory go to?'

'Hasty-Mouse of course!' he squawked indignantly.

Reepicheep did not dwell on how relieved that he actually was after such a turn of luck, but once again became very practical in manner of thinking and he thought once more of the main quest that they were on,

'Then you shall grant to me the thing that was agreed upon!' he said, and Hatchawk hung his head resignedly.

'And Hatchawk dreads to hear what Hastey-Mouse wants Hatchawk to do!'

'And indeed there are many things that I could justly ask of you to be dreaded, Hatchawk!' said Reepicheep, and he looked back to the destruction of beaver home. Prixy had made it clear that she would not have the beast near the place again, so there was no sense in ordering the gryphon to repair their home. Reepicheep also gathered that Hatchawk's would-be craftsmanship might well be the entire ruin of Bunter Beaver's Lodge, he would most likely do more harm than good. 'You will bear us westward, Hatchawk, and take us to the place of the lamppost.' Reepicheep proclaimed.

'Is that all Hastey-Mouse will ask of Hatchawk?' he gasped, surprised, 'Kindly-Mouse is what ee is, Hatchawk thinks! Hatchawk will take Kindly-Mouse to the lamppost! But why does ee say _us_?' he went on fawningly, 'Has Kindly-Mouse got a fairy in his pocket?'

And as if in reply to the gryphon's question, Pattertwig scrambled into the firelight into full view.

'A bally fairy, what? Whoever heard of such nonsense!'

'Hatchawk sees now - Not-a-Fairy! Very well, Hatchawk will take Kindly-Mouse and Not-a-Fairy off to the lamppost! Hatchawk knows where it is!'

'You can bet your best whisker that I am not a fairy, and that my name is Pattertwig!' emphasized Pattertwig, but the gryphon evidently took no more notice of him.

'And then after that?' Hatchawk continued, ' Hatchawk can go free?'

Reepicheep replied sternly, 'You must return from whence you came, wherever that may be! And you shall never hassle a good-living beaver for the rest of you days!'

'No! Nay! Never! Anything but that!' begged the gryphon, as he looked ruefully to the west where the dark land rolled off to meet the leaden sky, 'I cannot go back!'

'You shall do as I ask, as we agreed!' said Reepicheep firmly.

'Kindly-Mouse does not understand! Hatchawk has flown far, away from the Western Wilds!' Hatchawk appeared to become very upset, 'That place is filled with fighting Hastey-Beasts, and all the centaurs laugh at me when I sing! They call Hatchawk a useless Rooster and try to make Hatchawk use his beak and claws against the Mountain-Men!'

'The Mountain-Men?' chimed in Pattertwig and Reepicheep.

'Yes! The Mountain-Men!' squawked the gryphon.

'Who are the Mountain-Men?' asked Pattertwig.

'Who are the Mountain-Men?' reiterated the gryphon, as if he was in total disbelief at being asked such a question.

'Yes!' answered Pattertwig, 'who or what are the Mountain-Men?'

'The Mountain-Men!' the gryphon squawked once more, 'They are the Men from beyond the Mountain, little Not-a-Fairy! Don't you know!'

'There has been many strange rumours about,' said Reepicheep, 'It is hard to know what to believe, Hatchawk. We have heard that Granitegale has went that way with his army, but now you tell us that he is fighting with these Mountain-Men?'

'Hatchawk has seen it himself!' answered the gryphon, 'Hundreds of the Mountain-Men came from beyond the mountains. At first, the Mountain-Men seemed scared of us Talking-Beasts and would have nothing to do with us, but one night there was a great uproar among the new Mountain-Men dwellings at the foot of the mountains, then the next day they came upon us with swords flashing and angry voices crying!'

'Why would they suddenly wage war, just like that?' piped Reepicheep.

'Hatchawk does not know! Granitegale and his friends are having a flapping good time of it though, waving and swinging their swords and weapons at everyone in sight!'

'Horrid business that!' Pattertwig said, and the gryphon seemed to agree, guessing that Pattertwig meant that the mountains themselves, the Mountain-Men and the battle itself was all horrid business, which I'm sure he did.

'And you decided to desert from the battle! I wonder what penalty Granitegale's army has for that? None the less, you may have a part to play yet in that battle, Hatchawk. You will go back to the Western Wilds and your fate will be decided there. May the Lion be with you! But first, let you take us to where I have asked.'

And to that the gryphon had nothing left to say. Reepicheep bade farewell to the beaver family who lay gloomily huddled around the hearth fire and Prixy was glad to see that the gryphon was about to go.

As Reepicheep looked among the shades beneath the wooded canopy, he caught the sight of two pairs of gleaming disc-shaped eyes and then he knew from where his help had come from. He could only offer them a furtive gesture in thanks, for if the gryphon found out that a pair of owls were hiding nearby in the woods he was sure to suspect something of what had truly happened during their game. Reepicheep was quite happy with the outcome of that for he kept his honour and his life.

Now, as Pattertwig and Reepicheep were about to climb upon Hatchawk, Pattertwig asked, 'Wait just a minute, I thought you did not approve of flying Sir Reep?'

Reepicheep did not deny him although he did say, 'I don't think it matters much what I approve of Pattertwig. I think our quest is more important than that.'

Pattertwig was not convinced, 'Spill the beans Sir Reep! You are scared of owls, aren't you?'

One look from Reepicheep was enough to tell Pattertwig to be quiet and soon they were up and off into the night-sky.

They both sat very comfortably upon the gryphon's back and would have no doubt admitted that it he was a pleasure to fly on. The night did not offer much to look at, for everything beneath them seemed like one large mantle of blackness and they could no longer distinguish where the land met the pitch and starless sky on the horizon. The chill air fleeted past their ears and they huddled close to the gryphon's fur to escape its cold bite. Travelling in such a way made the dark and featureless world about them seem timeless and they could not tell how long they had been flying and it never appealed to them to guess or ask when they would land again and would probably have been content to go on flying like that until the morning came.

Reepicheep gazed ahead, as one might gaze at the sky to look for stars. And anyone who knows anything about stargazing knows that you can't expect to see all the stars all at once when you first look up. Some of the fainter and less bright ones take some effort to make out. Others hide behind a cloud then suddenly peep out at you when you least expect it and as quick as it had appeared it disappears again and you find that you cannot look away set your sights upon it just once more.

Reepicheep spied a small light ahead not at all unlike one of those stars, but it was as if it had fallen from the sky and had alighted itself somewhere down in the night-enveloped forest. His first glimpse of it was but a faint twinkling and he was unsure whether to decide if it was real or not, but further they flew the brighter and more distinct the light became in the vastness of the night.

They suddenly became aware that Hatchawk was bearing them just above the treetops for now they could hear the gentle stirring of leaves, disturbed by the gryphon's massive wingstrokes.

Presently, as they looked ahead, the light was momentarily obscured by the pointing treetops but swiftly and suddenly they passed over a dimly lit clearing in the woods and of course Reepicheep saw then that they had come at last to the place of the lamppost that he had once dreamt about (the Lantern Waste, if you would prefer to call it that).

Rapidly Hatchawk's speed abated as he beat his powerful wings and he took them down deftly to the forest's shadowy floor (one of his more gentle landings that he had performed in his lifetime). Off the gryphon's back they hopped and up and westward the gryphon flew without so much as _goodbye_ or a _good-riddance_.

The forest air was sweet and immediately they could tell that it was abundant with spruce trees even though they could not lay eyes upon their evergreen needles and brown timbers.

Reepicheep understood that the gryphon wasn't too happy with him for sending him back to the battle in the west, but then again, he was not too happy about the gryphon trying to eat him. Pattertwig guessed rightly that that parting was on unfriendly terms.

'He's a queer fellow! Awfully nice of him to give us a lift though.'

Reepicheep sniggered at Pattertwig's ignorance on the whole matter,

'It was awfully nice of him.'

'Now where's this lamppost you've been bothering your whiskers about so much? I'd like to know what all the fuss is about it!'

'We just passed over it,' answered Reepicheep, 'it is just back a bit from the way we came.'

Fragrant and pure though the air seemed, the darkness in the wood was almost stifling, so as soon as they caught their first glimpse of light once more between the fir trees they found themselves rushing hurriedly towards it.

**Reference to Hatchawk's understanding of the "**_**Mountain Men!"**__ – _The Men from Beyond the mountain. _(see writer's afterward in chapter 9.) _And of their coming was the "_Message" _from_ Wings of a Message. _=)


	17. 17 Horn of the Gentle Queen

**Horn of the Gentle Queen**

Now had Reepicheep and Pattertwig been more learned of the ways of the woods at night, like perhaps you or I may be, they would know not to follow lights blindly through the darkness and trust in good fortune that your hopes of finding what you are looking for might come true. But then again, you and I, to the best of my knowledge, were never knighted in secret by Aslan himself so I do get the idea that Reepicheep and Pattertwig had plenty enough reason to trust in their hopes of finding the Lamppost of Lantern Waste and rightly so that is what they did, and were not disappointed in doing so.

Reepicheep and Pattertwig emerged from the wood's darkness and gladness came upon them as they stumbled into a haven of light. There standing tall in the middle of the dimly lit clearing amidst the pines was the lamppost. The two companions treaded warily up to it, foremost was Reepicheep, both glaring up at the lantern set high on top of the towering post. Its light flickered sullenly behind the glass plane like a candle flame set upon by the wind, threatening to extinguish and abandon them to the darkness once more.

'That is the unhealthiest tree I ever saw,' piped Pattertwig, 'I think I have decided already that I don't like 'lantern trees' very much Sir Reep, I'm sorry to tell you. Or lampposts as you call them.'

Reepicheep was thinking back now about his dream that had led him here. Now upon finding the lamppost Pattertwig asked him the exact question that he was asking onto himself, 'Well Sir Reep? What now?' And Reepicheep had no answer for him at first, until at last he decided for them to wait in that place for a while,

'Pattertwig, most trustworthy of squires, I am tired in this late hour and our journey has been long. I think we should rest here until dawn. Perhaps tomorrow – '

Only now did Reepicheep notice a gentle drizzle falling upon them, a golden mist it became as the light from lantern became stronger. Reepicheep and Pattertwig were tingling from the tip of their tail to their whiskers, a sure feeling they knew when there was strong magic at work. Brighter and brighter the light became chasing away the shadows, and each time that they thought the light from the lamppost was in full glow it would become brighter still, until their eyes could no longer withstand looking directly up at the lamppost's lantern.

Pattertwig discovered then that there was a sweet taste in his mouth that he could not at first explain but, as Reepicheep realised a bit earlier than him, he found that it was the droplets that he had been licking from the end of his nose that made his mouth taste sweet. This happening was becoming wonderfully familiar to Reepicheep as he noticed their fur was sodden and dripping from the gentle downpour of the golden mist.

Slowly, their eyes became attuned to the astounding light and they descried the form of the lamppost's lantern set up high upon the tall post once more. This did nothing to improve Pattertwig's opinion on lampposts, but he said nothing, scared though he was, he kept his composure, comforted by Reepicheep's own reserve.

The mist subsided, the light gradually diminished and to Pattertwig's amazement their fur was entirely dry, as though they were never drenched by the drizzle in the first place. Pattertwig dared not speak, for the very silence that followed and the stillness of Reepicheep kept him quieted. Reepicheep had his eyes fixed on the lantern high above. No longer was there a flickering flame like that of a candle held within the lantern, but a wholesome and unwavering glow.

Reepicheep and Pattertwig felt the peculiar tingling all the more as the air seemed to become heavy and dense. Suddenly, the glass planes of the lantern cracked – the shattered glass fell at the foot of the lamppost, revealing an object from which the light radiated behind. The two companions remained motionless as it began to move; slowly it drifted through the air down toward them. It stopped, right before Pattertwig it settled upon the ground and seeing first that it was a horn of a sort, white and wonderfully crafted to their eyes, he looked at Reepicheep. They were both so astounded and never said a word, but Pattertwig took it upon himself to investigate the mysterious horn further. He found that it was hollow and filled with water. He went to lay his handpaws upon it, but another strange feeling he had made him glance hastily up to the lamppost again. There was a white figure there, perched right on top of the lamppost and Pattertwig could only rub his eyes in disbelief.

Neither of them had to speak it, for they both knew the white creature to be the one that saved Reepicheep's life before, the white foxcub Lilyvix (and if you remember, they had came to the decision that she was the nymph of the lamppost). And in a lilting voice they heard her speak,

_I'm a light in the forest, I am not a tree!_

_I'm not a Narnian fox, oh why can't I be! _

_A squirrel and a mouse! You have come so very far! _

_I wish to leave this with you for I'll be gone within the hour._

_Please take from me the horn of the Gentle Queen,_

_For she dropped it here long ago and was never more to be seen._

_Aslan help me! For I cannot tell you where it's owner is,_

_But I've filled it with a drink so forever you may live!' _

Reepicheep fell to one knee and bowed his head before the lamppost, 'Lilyvix, you have saved this mouse's life and so I'm eternally indebted to you. This is an oath sworn by a knight of Aslan, and shall –'

_'Speak nevermore and not so much of such a thing!_

_I did it by instruction of Narnia's creator and true king!_

_Now can I make it any clearer? Or do I have to sing?_

_Drink up! Drink up now before the new day dawn will bring.'_

'Who said you are a tree?' piped Pattertwig, 'I know a tree when I see one, so I would never accuse you of such a thing, little fox. And that tall post you are sitting on is certainly not one either!' It was quite clear that Pattertwig felt very strongly about this as he really did fancy himself as an expert on matters relating to trees such as this one. He felt all the better for getting that statement off his furry chest.

Reepicheep took up the horn with both handpaws and drank from the mouth of it. The water was sweet to taste and he closed his eyes to savour it. One draught he took, then a second and as he gulped down his third mouthful he opened his eyes he saw that the lamp of the lamppost had went out and he somehow knew that was the last that he would see of Lilyvix, for he no longer felt her magical presence. Holding the horn out in front of him, it glowed brightly between him and Pattertwig in midst of the looming darkness. Reepicheep passed the horn to Pattertwig and as he received it he quaffed down the remaining sweet water held within the horn. The only light left was that of the stars that mottled the clear sky. And thus that was the last time that the Lamppost of Lantern Waste lit the Narnian forest in the night.

'I don't think we'll be seeing Lilyvix again, Pattertwig. Aslan's country take her for her kindness to me.' said Reepicheep sorrowfully.

'And kind enough to leave with us with the actual Horn of Queen Susan! What wonders might become of this do you think Sir. Reep?' chirped Pattertwig, holding the horn admiringly, 'How many times has this horn been winded in battle do you think? The Gentle Queen's last resort when all else may have seemed lost, why would she have left this behind?'

'I could not tell you.' replied Reepicheep, 'But I'm sure Gladebreeze mentioned words about this to me back at the Stone Table. It is too dark to travel this night, but tomorrow we shall head back that way and perhaps we will come by the centaur maiden once more and see what wisdom she has about this.'

So there they waited until dawn and a little sleep they had…

**~0~**

_'HATCHAWK!' _

A piercing cry echoed across the vast Western Wilds.

_'HATCHAWK!'_

A mighty gryphon spanned its wings, gliding over the untamed forests and plains as the sun reared its head above the horizon.

'Curse Hastymouse!' the gryphon spat. The gryphon, Hatchawk, peered westward to the ominous mountains. He knew what lay between him and those far away peaks; fleeting thoughts of ensuing battle swept through his mind and dread hung over him.

'Why HATCHAWK?' he squawked to himself, 'Why did Hatchawk not just leave that Hasteymouse alone! Then Hatchawk would not be flying back to fight the Mountainmen, and Hatchawk would be as free as a bird to do as Hatchawk likes!' And all the while when he was dwelling on his regrets he was ignoring the persisting pangs of hunger until suddenly he began to feel very sorry for himself and cried out,

'How hungry is HATCHAWK!' He hated Reepicheep all the more, somehow finding a way to blame him for feeling hungry. After all he did beat him at the riddle game that he challenged Reepicheep to, robbing him of his evening meal. 'Perhaps Hatchawk should avoid eating mouses from now on.' He thought to himself.

It was well on in the morning now and there was no sure sign of having breakfast. Hatchawk was feeling quite miserable.

He descried a stream of smoke rising from a place far down by the bank of a river and being the curious creature that he was, he began to descend and circle the place where the smoke was rising from. As he swooped low enough, still circling deftly, he saw a creature laid out upon the ground beside the smoulders of a died-out camp fire.

'HATCHAWK!' cried the gryphon. The creature stirred and sprang to its feet. Hatchawk came diving from over the treetops beating his wings frantically to reduce his speed and tumbled to the ground sending the smoulders and ashes flying from the fire and landing on his back.

The creature that he saw was a mouse, and he had risen just in time to avoid being flattened by Hatchawk's crash landing. As Hatchawk gained his feet, he cursed himself for his clumsiness and saw the mouse claim a blade from the mess of clothing, steel ware and armaments that his fall had scattered about the campsite.

_'HATCHAWK!' _cried Hatchawk with embarrassment.

'What is the meaning of this, Dumb Beast?' the irate mouse demanded, pointing his sword at the gryphon. He was clad in distorted and battle worn dwarf armour. Hatchawk immediately recognised it, for only creatures of Granitegale's army that wore dwarven armour of that sort, except for some dwarves themselves of course. 'Speak before I run you through like I would with any Dumb Beast!'

'_HA-HA-HA-HA-CHAWK!' _chortled the gryphon. 'Hatchawk will eat his own feathers when the day that happens comes.' Hatchawk sat down in his typical hound-like fashion because he immediately found the mouse somewhat amusing – not to mention appealing to eat, 'Shoutingmouse wears the armour of Granitegale's army. Is Shoutingmouse loyal to Granitegale?'

'No!' barked the mouse 'Who are you to ask me such questions?' asked the mouse furiously.

_'HATCHAWK!' _squawked the gryphon, quite a bit louder than he had done until now, startling the sword-wielding mouse. 'That is who Hatchawk is! Tell Hatchawk something Shoutingmouse! How did Shoutingmouse come by such armour if Shoutingmouse is not one of Granitegale's army?' he inquired in a mischievous manner.

'I am Badmouse!' claimed the mouse, 'I have always owned this armour, and you shall not know my business with Granitegale's army, for I would dishonour myself by explaining anything to such a ridiculous creature such as the likes of you!'

'Shoutingmouse speaks of honour! _HA-HA-HA-HA-CHAWK!' _laughed Hatchawk, 'Shoutingmouse is nothing but a little deserter!' Hatchawk stopped to scratch himself, 'Unless Shoutingmouse stole that armour! In that case Shoutingmouse is a liar and a thief! Do you know what Granitegale has gryphons do with mouses like Shoutingmouse?'

Badmouse, as you have now learned who exactly Hatchawk had coincidently and quite literally stumbled by, did not reply at all, left speechless by the gryphon's accusations. '"EAT HIM!" Granitegale would say!' said Hatchawk, and hearing this Badmouse became angrier than ever.

'You are welcome to try and eat me Dumb Beast!' he roared (if it is even possible to say a mouse can roar, indeed I think you would use the same word if you seen how angry he was right then). Badmouse lashed out with his blade, but the stroke never found its mark and he fell flat on his face off balanced, for in that moment Hatchawk wasted no time in commencing his pre-meal ritual. He did not even bother explaining to Badmouse what it was about like he did upon deciding to make a meal of Reepicheep the previous night, so you can imagine the confusion that took place.

Round and round in circles Hatchawk pranced about the campsite and all the while Badmouse was pursuing him in vain to strike him with his sword. In all his heavy armour Badmouse never had a chance of harming a feather on the nimble gryphon's head, he was simply too slow. Several times he cursed Hatchawk in frustration, but he was too embroiled in his singing and prancing to care what the mouse was doing,

'If One cares or sees, to the east there is seas,

One'll know Sea stretches further than one can look!

But there came a day, that on the beach there lay,

A Seahorse on the sand forsook!'

_'Grraaagh! You sorry excuse for a gryphon! Fight me!'_

'A mane of scales ee had, emerald-green was Seahorse clad,

And with the Land Seahorse did not abide!

Stranded Seahorse was, no more swimming now because

Seahorse was too slow for the ebbing tide!'

_'Cease this foolishness, DUMB BEAST!'_

'Two Giants came then, and thought Seahorse was slain,

So Two Giants put Seahorse in a wheelbarrow!

Into the woods Two Giants trundled, with Seahorse in barrow bundled,

And they listened to a song from a fleeting Sparrow.'

_'COWARD! Stand and fight me!'_

'Night came soon, Two Giants waved to the moon,

And Two Giants buried Seahorse inside of a boot!

A Night-Bird Two Giants heard, and understood not a word,

For all Night-Bird ever did was HATCHAWK!'

Suddenly the gryphon stopped, and shot a glare of eager expectation at Badmouse. The mouse was lying sprawled out on the ground exhausted. He rose to his footpaws and gasping for his breath, pointed once more at Hatchawk and shouted wildly at him 'POLTROON! POLTROON!'

Hatchawk took that insult as the Badmouse's guess to the missing word of his song, and of course Badmouse had no idea of what Hatchawk was thinking of and neither did he care. He was tired from chasing Hatchawk all through his singing performance so the gryphon completely caught him unawares as he leapt towards Badmouse and seized him by the tail, lifting him off the ground like a worm in a magpie's beak.

Hanging upside-down, Badmouse did not altogether lose his fiery temper. Still grasping his blade firmly he still had full intentions of driving it into the gryphon. So, with the momentum of his swing as he dangled in mid-air, he drove it deep into the feathery throat of Hatchawk, but the gryphon still clamped Badmouse's tail in his beak like a vice.

Only now did Badmouse lose his wit now that he had lost his weapon, for it was lodged in the gryphon's neck, 'Release me!' he cried despairingly. Hatchawk stumbled, suffering from his fatal wound but never would he let go of his prey. He staggered to the banks of the fast flowing river by the campsite.

Hatchawk felt his strength leaving him and finally his legs gave way as he fell head first into the river with a splash, still with Badmouse held firmly in his beak. The current took them both downstream for a painfully long time, and it was a wonder that neither of them drowned if Hatchawk had not already died of his wound. In fact, the only reason that Badmouse had to think that he was alive was that he had not yet let go of his tail, constantly being tugged beneath the surface.

As Badmouse looked ahead expecting to see the never ending stream before him, he saw that up ahead of him there was nothing at all, then another far off horizon appeared where the vast forest far beneath him stretched out to and then - he fell, still in the grasp of the slain gryphon's beak. Off the edge of a tall waterfall and into a roaring , watery abyss they both vanished.

**~0~**

Now dawn came upon the Lantern Waste just the same as the rest of Narnia and Reepicheep felt fresh as he woke at first light. Reminiscing on the night before and holding Queen Susan's horn in his handpaws, he felt like a new mouse as he listened to the birds rejoicing at the coming of dawn. Pattertwig seemed more than content to lye against the lamppost snoring all the while. It seemed as though it would take more than birdsong to wake him that morning,

_'Cheeree! Cheeree! _

_In the sky we see,_

_The Sun! The Sun!_

_He'll bee! He'll bee! _

_To shine he's free!_

_In the sky all day long!_

_Flutter and flap!_

_Traloo! Traloo!_

_How woodpigeons are fat!_

_And a good day from me to you!'_

But like any birdsong written down in words for us to understand it sounds a lot more meaningful and heartening to hear than it does to simply read.

Reepicheep just sat and embraced the harmony of that morning, that was until Pattertwig woke up rubbing his eyes, in a particularly sprightly mood,

'What? Do my ears deceive me? I could swear upon my brush that one of those birds just called me a fat pigeon!'

'Good morning to you as well Pattertwig.' said Reepicheep, 'No I'm very sure that they did not. You were probably dreaming'

Pattertwig was not entirely convinced although dismissed any such thing as unimportant as he laid his eyes upon the ivory horn that Reepicheep held. It was more fabulous looking now in the daylight, 'How are we supposed to carry that bally thing anywhere? We may have to take turns carrying it!'

'You may be right Pattertwig. It could prove to be more trouble than anything to carry about the forests in this part of Narnia. We found it challenging enough to get here in the first place.' Reepicheep rose to his footpaws and slung the horn over his shoulder, stumbling slightly as it threw him off balance, 'But I'm a knight of Aslan, and it was given onto us to bear. There must be a reason for it to be passed on to our handpaws!'

'Blow it and see what happens!' blurted Pattertwig. 'We are in need of some help carrying it after all.'

'How so?' retorted Reepicheep 'Don't be absurd, Pattertwig! The horn cannot do anything for us that we cannot do for ourselves. Besides, if nothing useful happens we will only draw the attention of every beast from here to Cair Paravel, and we could do without that I think.'

'Perhaps you are right Sir Reep.' he sighed, 'What ever was I thinking? I suppose we will be on our way soon? We should probably try to cover some distance before noon comes for a good start for our journey back. I'm not a big fan of trudging through the forest in the heat of noon.'

'That is a good point Pattertwig.' agreed Reepicheep, 'Now you are thinking more like a squirrel – or a squire for that matter.'

'And worry not, if you have not but forgotten, about our breakfast! Leave that to me as we should depart right awaaay!' said Pattertwig, as he bolted up the nearest tree and into the canopy. And so. there their journey back to the Stone Table began, at first in hopes of finding Gladebreeze again to ask what they might do with the Horn of Queen Susan. But for all their haste to get on the go again, they started in the completely wrong direction – west, toward the Western Wilds instead of east, where the Stone Table was.

Reepicheep marched relentlessly through the woods hauling the ivory horn along with him, while Pattertwig capered and jumped and climbed through the canopy above him and gathered nuts and berries for them to munch along the way. He was most definitely more comfortable up in the trees than he was travelling on the ground as you might have remembered about him.

Noon came sooner than they expected with all their focus on covering as much distance as they could before noon itself came. But with it came the heat of midday as the sun reached its zenith, exactly as Pattertwig had said.

Finally, when Pattertwig had come down to the ground to join Reepicheep again, they both looked about the woods for a place to rest. Reepicheep was the more tired of the two,

'I think that was a good idea you had about taking turns to carry the horn, Pattertwig.' He said slightly breathless.

'Really?' said Pattertwig 'But it suits you so well, Sir Reep! You look exceptionally valiant carrying the Horn of Queen Susan. I'm sure the Gentle Queen herself would agree that it suits no one else better than you.'

'Thanks Patterwig, but your flattery is too much. We'll take turns carrying the horn from now on. I am exhausted.' said Reepicheep as he freed himself of the weight of the horn.

Only now that they had settled to rest for a time did they take in their surroundings. The memory of fragrant pine trees and singing birds that morning seemed a very wonderful thought compared to where they were now.

They knew it was noon now and the sun was high in the sky, but they seemed to have come to this part of the forest quite suddenly, for it was very gloomy and the dire looking compared to the wood that they were travelling through all morning. The trees were dead looking, like lifeless skeletons of once great oak trees. The smell of damp, rotting wood was stifling, filling the humid air. The deathly old trees, smothered by moss and riddled with fungi, hung their withered branches ominously above them. Pattertwig stopped and gawked about the haggard wood, 'By the fur on my brush!' he said under his breath. He turned to Reepicheep, 'This is a very unhappy place, Sir Reep.'

'Indeed, I have seen more cheerful places than this, Pattertwig.' added Reepicheep, 'But it seems we must stop to rest none the less. For I don't know about you, but I am suddenly very tired.'

'Well I suppose, even the best squirrels and mice need their rest.' said Pattertwig, 'You know, I am – oww ahh….a bit tired now that you mention it.' Pattertwig gave a cavernous yawn then, he felt a strange drowsiness come upon him. Reepicheep was feeling the same way.

'Ooow aahhh!' yawned Reepicheep 'I'm sure some sleep will lift this weariness from us.' And despite all his warnings that part of him was telling him against doing what he was about to do he gave in to the very appealing thought of having a quick snooze and lay down to sleep as simple as that.

Now you have to give some credit to Pattertwig, for as you might have picked up, he was more of a creature used to his comforts than Reepicheep was, but regardless of that fact, he was the one still awake. Perhaps his little lye-in that morning had done him a fair bit of good. And I suppose Reepicheep was the one lugging the ivory horn about all day as well which was likely to play its part in tiring him out but the fact still remained that Pattertwig was the one wide awake and with some of his wits about him.

He found this drowsiness very peculiar. He had a sound sleep the night before propped against the lamppost. He was certainly more used to sleeping up high in the trees, but lack of sleep was not to blame for how he was now feeling. He never thought much of the journey that morning for he had much tougher expeditions than that in the past so he felt that was not to blame either.

His eyes were heavy, and his head finally began to nod. He did not want to fall asleep, for he sensed all the more right then that there was something very strange happening at present. He shook himself into a state of vigilance and began to pace around a particularly large one of the trees, but as dead and hollow as the rest of them.

For some time he circled the tree, keeping himself awake but allowing Reepicheep to sleep, feeling a bit guilty after allowing his friend to bear the horn all the way there, when finally he decided to himself that they had waited long enough in that place. His suspicion of the place grew into nervousness. He was sure now that they were being set upon by evil magic. The feeling of the presence of magic was unmistakable to him. Normally it was distinctive, making his fur tingle and a wholesome feeling would sometimes overcome him that made him feel like he was laughing when he did not appear to be laughing at all. But now he felt a coldness encroach upon him and his weariness almost became overwhelming. Pattertwig began to panic.

'Reepicheep!' he shouted as he ran to his sleeping friend. Reepicheep did not stir a whisker, but by his side lay Queen Susan's horn and Patterwig found his handpaws upon it. He filled his chest and winded the horn with all his breath. Queen Susan's horn blasted loudly for its first time in countless years, and its spell swept across the land at the handpaws of Pattertwig the red squirrel…

**~0~**


	18. 18 A Stargazer's Happily Ever After?

**A Stargazer's_ "Happily ever after?"_**

"What has four hooves and talks like a tree?" asked the wise old Willow Tree.

"Whatever the answer is it's truly beyond me!" sang the Nightingale quite honestly.

"The answer's Gladebreeze! Go little bird and see!" said the beech tree.

"Little bird indeed!" cried the Nightingale, fluttering off to find what the answer could be.

He flew for ages and ages! Until he saw a lady swimming in a river.

He followed her for days and days. And learned alot about her; her name was Lady Periwinkle.

**_~0~_**

_Lady Periwinkle, she's a superbly peculiar maiden,_

_She carries a jewelled conch shell, and her locks are golden,_

_Travelling far without feet, her love for stories never fading,_

_And her best friend is a hermit crab, snug in the shell she holds him._

_Lady Periwinkle, she is the fishiest of the sea creatures,_

_A Mermaid is she with a tailfin like a fish mail dress,_

_Clad in two pinkish giant clam shells, to keep modesty hers,_

_And her skin is sea-salty smooth, and soft her golden tress._

_This Mermaid's memories are of mysterious eastern kingdoms,_

_Where seahorses neigh while trident warriors fray deep undersea._

_She came to explore the land-dwellers country, now by rivers she swims._

_Nothing could she descry under a starless sky, now waylaid was she._

_In a clear stream once swimming, while daylight was dimming,_

_Through a beech wood forest the stream ran._

_By a pool frogs started leaping, from the mermaid they went fleeting,_

_As she rose from the deep with jewelled shell in her palm._

_"This river goes never on as we come by this pond,_

_And night has come upon us too soon!"_

_The hermit crab then mumbled and into his shell he huddled,_

_Giving into a dreamy swoon._

_The darkness fell fast and she gave up at last,_

_"We shall go further east in the morning!"_

_But never would she sleep, "What in the shadows does creep?_

_I believe I spy over yonder a lady centaur mourning!"_

_You'd be right to believe her, for eyes never deceived her,_

_For there was the centaur Gladebreeze alone in the dark._

_"Why, Lady, are you weeping? What secrets are you keeping?"_

_Gladebreeze told her all and Lady Periwinkle did hark._

_"All the Narnians went west, and what for? Only to go off to war!_

_And there are no stars this night to tell how they fare!"_

_The mermaid guessed she was troubled by her many tears by the puddle,_

_And came up with only one suggestion she thought she would share._

_"If its stars you would see, why don't you in the morning follow me?_

_Did you know that they don't always sparkle in the night sky?_

_Across the sea there is a place where there're known to fall out of space_

_And walk upon the land on an island! I swear it is no lie!"_

_Often about the vast sea did Gladebreeze wonder, 'What lay both beyond and under?'_

_But never had she dreamed of the stars she loved walking upon land._

_She was a lonely creature indeed, and of companionship she felt need,_

_She said, "Are they a fair people? Could a star take in marriage my hand?"_

_And with Gladebreeze's wishes in mind, she said truly, "They are noble, fair and kind!"_

_So Gladebreeze forgot all her worries and thought of her future._

_"Nobody listened to my prophesies before! I shall never foretell them anymore!"_

_Blameless for thinking that I'm sure, she thought this land would no longer suit her._

_For morning they waited in the wood, and Gladebreeze did all she could_

_To guide Lady Periwinkle to a mouth of a river and into the sea._

_As she stood on the beach, gazing with hope off to the east,_

_Lady Periwinkle the mermaid leapt high into the air with glee._

_"Thank you, kindest centaur lady! A happy mermaid you have made me!'_

_She dived undersea with a splash, and surfaced away from the shore._

_"Now, no time to waste! Follow me with all haste!_

_We shall swim to the island where stars walk, you shall make prophecies nevermore!"_

_Putting trust in the mermaid's word, though suspecting her quite absurd,_

_She waded into the deep and swam as best as a centaur could._

_Right until __noon__ she kept swimming, and did well enough without sinking,_

_But cried for the mermaid to wait for her and each time she asked she would._

_'Oh lady with your four hooves, how slowly through the water a centaur moves!_

_Perhaps you should just go back! I fear your journey may be hopeless!'_

_'No!' cried Gladebreeze at last, she would not give up hope that fast,_

_With her unyielding will she would go until she had no strength left to harness._

_Lady Periwinkle wasn't so sure, her faith in the centaur was now poor,_

_But she guided her onward east and Gladebreeze followed at her best._

_What she had decided that day could be done no other way,_

_But until Gladebreeze met a star at least she would never rest._

_Then from out of the blue, from where it came they never knew,_

_They both heard a wondrous sound that echoed both far and wide._

_Much like the call of a horn was this sound, yet much more mystical and profound,_

_It was the very sound of Deep Magic itself that sounded over land and tide._

_Gladebreeze felt the magic flow through her, and beneath the water she went under,_

_And Lady Periwinkle could not make head or tail of what happened then._

_She went under too fearing she would drown, but the centaur was not to be found,_

_And she was filled with grief; sure that Gladebreeze had met her end._

_When up from out of the water, leapt another mermaid as if the wind had caught her_

_Flying right overhead to a splash and up to Lady Periwinkle she swam._

_Her hazel locks were drenched and wet, and Lady Periwinkle's gaze she met._

_'The Deep Magic favours me!' she cried, 'Take me to where stars walk the land!'_

_Simply bewildered Lady Periwinkle was made, to see before her Gladebreeze the mermaid!_

_'How…? But who…? And where…?' was all that Lady Periwinkle could say._

_Gladebreeze embraced her friend joyously and they frolicked about the water boisterously_

_And to the place where stars walk the land they both went swiftly on their way._

_Is what Lady Periwinkle said true? Or has she taken Gladebreeze for a fool?_

_Is there a place over the ocean far where the stars they walk the land?_

_I've never known of a mermaid to tell lies, but saying that to meet one would be a surprise_

_But as someone to me once said "there is someone somewhere for everyone."_

_So I'm inclined to believe the mermaid and that Gladebreeze found a star to take her hand._

**_~0~_**

_"_What has four hooves and talks like a tree?" asked the wise old Willow Tree.

"Whatever the answer is it's truly beyond me!" said the Nightingale.

"The answer's Gladebreeze! I thought you had went for yourself, little bird, to see!" said the beech tree.

"Little bird indeed!" cried the Nightingale, "You are mistaken if you mean Gladebreeze the mermaid, but I'll let you know when I see a horse growing leaves!"


	19. 19 The Home of Moonwood

**The Home of Moonwood**

Reepicheep was dreaming of Dancing Lawn. The lawnbabes were playing their impromptu compositions with the dwarf drums and the flutes of the fauns, and the rest were capering about the moonlit lawn. And there was Wilnoe the mole, guffawing and applauding them from out of his hole in the ground, all was very much to his approval as he normally was of merriment upon the lawn. Among them was Heathricheep, the Flower Nurse of Dancing Lawn. Reepicheep could only think how well she suited that name. In his eyes she was fairer than any flower under Aslan's creation, she thrilled him in a way Reepicheep never felt before. And as much as Reepicheep would have liked to have dreamt on about that wonderful place and of the mouse maiden he was forced into wakefulness by a loud and sudden blast, and before he opened his eyes he immediately got a vision of a maiden in battle garments and with crown upon her head, winding an ivory horn amidst the storm of battle.

Looking about him with round eyes and his heart in his throat, he beheld Pattertwig standing over him with the horn to his mouth. He rushed to his footpaws and seized it from him. 'What are you thinking?' he shouted at Pattertwig, fairly angry with him.

'There is magic in this place, Sir Reep! Bad magic!' whispered Pattertwig breathlessly.

And immediately, Reepicheep sensed the truth in what his squire told him. How could he have missed it before? He felt a bit foolish at that moment, for he felt now the heavy presence of magic in that place, it made him shiver.

The blast from the horn still echoed about the forest like a bell ringing in a great cathedral. And so as not to keep you guessing about what actually happened then, whatever curse or evil spell that lingered in that wood was lifted at that moment when Queen Susan's Horn was winded by Pattertwig.

All about Reepicheep and Pattertwig the trees shed from them their morose features and sprang to life as though winter had changed to spring, and then spring had changed to summer all in a few short moments.

As you would expect, Reepicheep and Pattertwig were altogether awestruck. But they got over it quite quickly because they were getting very used to unexpected things happening to them on their journey and they began to expect nothing less than the unexpected to happen to them long before that.

'Whatever foul enchantments that were laid upon this place, I'd say that you have just lifted, Pattertwig.' said Reepicheep, 'Goodness know what ills may have come upon us if we had both fell off to sleep! I shall never doubt you again Pattertwig! You are truly worth more than your weight in gold, of that you have shown!'

Reepicheep continued to thank and praise Pattertwig, for although Pattertwig remained humble and told him not to mention it, it made Reepicheep feel slightly less guilty praising his squire. But that was Reepicheep for you. If he had not had Pattertwig to praise for making amends for his carelessness, as the way he seen it, he would be spending his time berating himself. Either way, he was a much more vigilant mouse from that day forward.

'This horn is very loud,' said Patterwig truly enough. Reepicheep handed it back to him. 'I wouldn't be surprised if every creature from here to Cair Paravel has been deafened by its bally blast!' Both of them had a ringing in their ears, as thought little bells were resounding in their heads, and Pattertwig was quite sure that he heard a distant voice reply, _'You can say that again!'_ But he ignored it as his imagination because Reepicheep didn't seem to hear it at all.

As Reepicheep took the horn from Pattertwig he wondered at one of the great oak trees, the one that Pattertwig had taken to circling about before hand. It was of a considerably larger girth than those that stood far from it, at a respectable distance so that the massive oak splayed and stretched its great limbs verdantly all about it. Pattertwig saw it in a new light now that he looked upon it in full life.

They were in no rush to get on their way again and so they sat and talked idly, trying to make some sense of what just happened, beneath the shade of the trees, facing the biggest oak tree that stood out on its own shadowing a spread of long grass mottled with yellow buttercups. It got cooler as time went on and the sun got lower in the sky, although their spirits were higher than before and Pattertwig was in his usual garrulous mood,

'I do miss old Gumblefeather. Where ever has that owl gotten to? And what was he on about moths and bats, and bats being bigger than moths? And what have they got to do with lampposts? Awk, yes... I bet my whole secret store of nuts that his disappearance has something to do with that white-feathered friend of his! They seemed quite _flappingly_ fond of each other, don't you think Sir Reep?'

'A mighty fine oak tree that is over there, Sir Reep, in case you couldn't tell. Fit for a squirrel king I should say. What I wouldn't give for one of those to sprout up beside the old Rushafell River! There would be no bears chasing Pattertwig out of his tree then! And they could shout "Pattertwig! Pattertwig! Pattertwig!" all they like! If anyone should want to consult me, they would have to climb up and find me on the very highest branch – right up there! They would think twice about bothering me then. Except for you Sir Reep, you could call upon me whenever suits you! Your squire at your service, no matter how big and oak tree I have to hide in!'

'I feel truly privileged indeed, Pattertwig,' replied Reeicheep as Pattertwig stood and bowed to him while saying _'at your service.' _

Reepicheep stood as well and they began to make their way forward in the direction that they were heading that morning, the completely wrong direction if you remember, when suddenly they were stopped in their tracks before they could walk the length of themselves.

'Yoooo-hoooo!' they both heard from the direction of the giant oak tree.

'What on earth…' muttered Reepicheep.

'Where do you two daftys think you are going to? That is the wrong way to the Stone Table anyway, hear or be told! Unless there is another Stone Table that you are going to that I don't know about. And that is _highly _unlikely!'

Reepicheep and Pattertwig approached near to the monolithic bole of the tree and stopped where the ground began to rise up to its foot. The sheer size of it was all the more imposing as they stood in the shadow of its thick boughs and greenery. And only now, hidden from afar by the thick foliage, did they see who the speaker was that greeted them.

There was a window very high up, would you believe? A glass paned window swung wide open a good bit above them and peering down upon them from out of the window was a hare. Although they could not be sure that it was a hare at first, for all they could make out from the ground was the wonderful set of ears the he had. That was until they heard him shout down at them again,

'You two! What is wrong with you? Were you too shy to come say hello to old Moonwood? I suppose I shall have to come down to you! You are obviously too shy to knock at my door as well!' And with that said the window slammed shut and the long eared hare had gone inside.

Reepicheep and Pattertwig both looked about the tree. They did not spot any telltale signs of any doors about. They momentarily looked around for perhaps some sort of outline or frame worked into the bark of the trunk, or even a handle or a keyhole of the like but they found nothing.

Not that they had much time to look about thoroughly because they were not waiting long when the old hare's head popped out from around the tree truck to greet them face to face.

'Sir Reep, if I'm not mistaken! It's been a while since I've been in the presence of a knight.' said the hare as he bounded up to Reepicheep and held his right handpaw out for a handshake (or a pawshake or whatever you would prefer to call it) and Reepicheep obliged, correcting Monnwood with his proper name, 'Pleased to meet you! And of course…Pattertwig! Pattertwig! Patertwig! Pleased to meet you as well! I am Moonwood, as you might have already picked up.'

Pattertwig tried his absolute best not to stare at Moonwood's enormously big ears as he shook paws with him. They were unusually big even for a hare, and he was also abnormally tall and slender. 'Just Pattertwig will do, thank you my good hare. _Ears!- _eh- _pleased_ to meet you I mean!' said Pattertwig.

'How do you know us by name, Moonwood?' Reepicheep asked, 'I don't remember us meeting before.'

'Well, I just happened to overhear the pair of you nattering away all afternoon. I thought that perhaps after going through the trouble of waking me up, and every creature from here to Cair Paravel in the process of tooting that horn, that you would at least come over to say hello to old Moonwood! As it would have appeared I guessed wrongly!'

'Oh, but I didn't mean to wake you, Moodwood,' said Pattertwig, 'Before you called to us we would never have guessed that you were here at all!'

'Awk! Don't be silly, dear squirrel!' cried Moonwood 'Every beast knows who lives in this tree. It's too big for one hare alone to live in so I welcome any good living beast in my home, hear or be told! No need to be shy!'

And hearing that Pattertwig got very excited, as you can imagine.

'Pattertwig speaks the truth, Moonwood.' said Reepicheep, 'This whole wood was enchanted under an evil spell when we got here. Not a living thing stirred in this place and the trees were dead and hollow. Pattertwig blew Queen Susan's Horn and released the magic from the wood and it flourished as it does now. We would never have guessed that anyone lived here before now.'

'Oh dear…' was Moodwood's response, thinking very deeply, 'I had been having horrible nightmares of what you speak of. Goodness knows how long I've been out of it. Why, the last thing I remember was talk of a witch in Narnia who was going about turning every beast into stone and everything else into snow and ice! Would you believe it? But never mind that for now…'

Moonwood lived up to his word and took both of them inside the big oak tree. The door was around the other side of it so it was no wonder that Reepicheep and Pattertwig never found it at first themselves being on the opposite site. It was a tall green door with a curved lintel and a shiny brass knob. It squeaked irritatingly enough as Moonwood lead them inside and closed it behind them and there they stood at the bottom of a spiralling staircase that led to the upper chambers within Moonwood's home. And a great oak tree it was although all hollowed out within.

Now, normally when Pattertwig found himself in situations like this his squirrel instincts and his common sense in how to be a respectable squire seemed to be at the height of battle between each other and in this particular situation his squirrel instincts got the better of him. He was so exhilarated at being inside this ancient sessile oak that he had looked upon with such admiration from the outside that all he could think of doing was running up, up and up the stairs. And so, up the spiralling stairs Pattertwig bolted in a flash forgetting all of his manners and whose home they where in.

Moonwood then Reepicheep were following in the latter when they heard Pattertwig's outcry,

'Baaaahhh!' they heard him shriek. The tall hare made it quickly to the top of the staircase and Reepicheep came lugging Queen Susan's Horn after him.

The upper chamber of Moonwood's home was one spacious, circular room with a singular round window where the sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves outside of it to brighten up the place. There were bookcases all along the walls packed full of ancient books and scrolls of paper. A solid oaken wood floor it had of course and it was filled with furniture of the like that you would expect in any civilised living area, but remembering that Moodwood was a hare you have to admit that he was the most sophisticated of any other Narnian hares you may have heard of.

There was a low dining table centred with wax candles and featured with oak stumps to sit on and fabulous paintings were on the walls of Cair Paravel and the sea, of the forests and of fauns at Dancing Lawn. But Reepicheep saw nothing shocking about the place at all.

Pattertwig was standing at the bottom of another wider staircase at the other side of the room which looked as though it lead up to another floor of Moonwood's home. He was standing with wide eyes and both handpaws covering his mouth, as if he had used them to suppress his outburst

'Why did you shout?' inquired Reepicheep, but Pattertwig remained silent and began to back away from the staircase.

In that moment there came down the stairs another creature that walked on all fours. Reepicheep grasped his rapier. It neared the size of a small bear and had you saw it yourself you would have thought it to be an oversized brown hare, for that's what it looked very much like at first glace save for some very distinct features. It had horns like that of a stag, two great antlers but the thing that caught Reepicheep's and Pattertwig's attention the most was the straight white horn protruding from the creatures forehead like that of a unicorn.

'By the Lion's Mane!' gasped Moodwood, 'The Hoofalope! I've been trying to wake that fellow since I first moved in here. He's been sleeping up there for goodness knows how long! And now Pattertwig has come along, toots a horn and up he gets!' Reepicheep and Pattertwig stared in awe at the creature, but Pattertwig managed to stir up the courage to try and greet the so called _"Hoofalope." _Clearing his throat he stammered, 'I'm P-P-Pa-Pattertwig! I apologise for waking you, good Hoofalope…'

'Save your breath Pattertwig,' said Moonwood as he went howking through the bookshelves, 'Hoofalopes are not talking beasts, although more intelligent than most _non-talking_ beasts come!'

They saw that Moodwood was right because the Hoofalope just looked at them blankly, blinking its large, black, pearly eyes. Moonwood unrolled a long scroll on the table with pictures and writings upon it.

'A Hoofalope! As discoverer of the creature upon taking up my residence in the oak tree I came to name it so. Its only natural habitat has been the second floor of my home in a permanent hibernation state for as long as I remember and I have no idea of where it came from or anything else about it…but I drew some labelled diagrams of it for my personal scientific records to add to my library.'

'Then how did you know that the creature couldn't talk until now?' asked Reepicheep.

'Oh I heard it from somewhere, but I failed to record when and who exactly I heard it from so I'm afraid I have forgotten…unfortunately! So since then I've made records of everything I see and hear about! Hear or be told! For don't you know that I, Moonwood the hare, can hear everything that goes on in Narnia! The trouble is that my memory isn't what it used to be, so in case I forget things I record everything, hence all the books and scrolls, some as old as myself!'

Reepicheep and Pattertwig were very surprised to hear this, although Pattertwig made better sense of it as he looked again at how big Moonwood's ears were, then he wasn't so surprised at all that he could hear everything.

He was also waiting for the right time to inquire about why on earth Moonwood had called the hare-like creature a _"Hoofalope?" _But he quickly made his own sense of that too as he saw that the Hoofalope had hooves instead of paws on its hind legs much like a faun or satyr. Pattertwig felt particularly observative and intelligent today.

'But since I've been under some dratted enchantment for some time now,' continued Moonwood, 'I know practically nothing about you two fellows, except for what I picked up from earlier of course. If you are in no hurry I'd appreciate it if you would stay for a while and tell me about the recent happenings in Narnia. Otherwise I'll have a hard job making sense of whatever else I hear about the land. And after that you can be on your way in the _correct _direction to the Stone Table. And I'll even let you keep the Hoofalope!'

Pattertwig was now standing beside the Hoofalope and stroking the end of its nose and becoming quite fond of the creature so he was delighted to hear that Moodwood was letting them have it to take with them.

'Are you quite sure Moonwood?' asked Reepicheep.

'Yes, very sure.' he replied, 'I've a feeling that the old Hoofalope won't be wanting to spend its days snoozing up my stairs anymore and I'm not up to going out adventuring about the place with it. You may find better use for it the me ,Sir Knight!'

So Reepicheep and Pattertwig stayed until the next morning inside the oak tree with Moonwood and the Hoofalope. At night it was very dark, for there are no lighting fires inside of a tree. Just think how disastrous that would turn out!

The Hoofalope was very calm and quiet. It seemed a very docile creature and both Reepicheep and Pattertwig became very comfortable with its presence with them. Pattertwig helped Reepicheep tell their whole story from how he saved him from the ravens attacking him when he left the Rushafell River to that very moment when Moonwood called to them earlier that day, and would you guess? Mooonwood recorded the whole account in a blank book of his so they had to tell everything slowly so that the hare could write it all down as they sat round the table.

Everything was completely new to Moonwood and he became almost frightened at how different everything now was. It was all very chaotic compared to what he was used to back in his days of living. When Reepicheep told what Gladebreeze said about the witch's _evil magic lingering,_ he could not comprehend how long the he was under her spell. Of course looking back at the last date of his latest recordings wasn't of much help because now at present no beast seemed to keep track of dates or count the years or have calendars at all. The poor old hare was simply bewildered.

They slept that night, and Moonwood had to plug up his ears so that the sounds of the night would not keep him awake. He had no more nightmares I'm sure you'll be pleased to know. Then the next morning he begged that Reepicheep and Pattertwig stay for another day so that they could fill him on some of Narnia's history that he didn't not know about, happenings that occurred after he had been put under the spell of the witch. So they kindly stayed. He learned the witch's name was Jadis and of all her wicked deeds that you and I already know about and how she was put an end to.

Two nights they ended up staying and there was no talking them into another day of story telling and history lessons for old Moonwood. They prepared that night to depart for the Stone Table on the next morning. They probably would have had a sound sleep that night too, if only the quiet old Hoofalope did not take the sudden notion to charge and crash through Moonwood's pretty little window in the middle of the night. Moonwood was very distressed on waking and seeing the gaping whole in the side of his home looking out into the black woods and the shattered and splintered remains of his beloved window upon the grass at the foot of the tree.

Perhaps after that, it was just as well that the Hoofalope was leaving with Pattertiwg and Reepicheep...


	20. 20 They Rode Away On the Hoofalope

**"They Rode Away On The Hoofalope..."**

Although I'm sure it would be best if everyone just got along all of the time but you know yourself that there are some creatures or people that can just prove incompatible! If you were to find yourself in some quarrel or disagreement with a hare you somewhere came across, I'd advise you to keep things civil. I've heard that they are particularly good boxers and can run after you as fast as the wind. So it would take you to be a very fast runner or be half descent with your fists before you decide to throw any insults at one. And keep in mind that calling a hare 'Big Ears' is not likely to insult them if that's what you decide to do in the end. They are quite aware of the size of their size of ears and I'm sure that they take some pride in them as well. But whatever you do, for goodness sake, do not go to the poor hare's home and smash his window!

Moonwood did not sleep a wink the previous night's incident. When Reepicheep woke the old hare was sat hunched over at a study desk, writing furiously with a feathered pen. There already were several empty ink pots scattered upon the floor and the shelves were becoming jam-packed with books and scrolls filled with Moonwood's writings containing Aslan knows how many reports of Narnians' business or stories for the whole land about. Reepicheep stared in wonderment.

'Moonwood, it is time for us to depart.' Reepicheep finally said. Moonwood turned from his work and shot Reepicheep an irate glare,

'Good riddance to that beastly window wrecker!' was his only response, then he went straight back to his writing.

Reepicheep left it at that. Firstly, before he left he referred to a map on the wall. The green door of Moonwood's home actually faced north on it so it was easy enough to see which direction from there they should head to get to the Stone Table. He swung his shield upon his back then Queen Susan's Horn over his shoulder and went down the spiralling staircase and out of the squeaky green door onto the shaded lawn. He assumed that Pattertwig was outside already.

It was about an hour after dawn and the shadows were stretched long on the grass and

the woods that enclosed great oak tree seemed to form a perfect circle around it. Pattertwig and the Hoofalope were nowhere to be seen. The words were in Reepicheep's mouth as he was just about to call to his squire when he heard noise coming from deep within the woods. It sounded like thunder rolling closer towards him. He was almost sure that it was a host of centaurs passing through the woods near by but then he saw only one figure emerge from the edge of the forest. It was unmistakeably the Hoofalope, with its branchlike antlers and single horn like a great spear. Reepicheep took fear and drew his sword as it thundered and galloped swiftly toward him. He would not even have had time to arm his shield before it would have been upon him if it had intended to charge upon Reepicheep. At the last moment it swerved with such agility as you have never seen and Reepicheep caught a glimpse of Pattertwig sitting astride the Hoofalope's back, holding his shield and burling his sling. He let loose a stone whizzing over Reepicheep's head and it lodged straight into Moonwood's lovely green door with a loud _thump!_

Although he would not have liked to admit it, Reepicheep was a bit shaken. Pattertwig charging toward him upon the Hoofalope reminded him a bit too much of his latest conflict with Sir Rosensqueak upon his warhare. He sometimes did his best to forget that day, but the memory always lurked in the back of his mind and in that moment it flashed before his eyes.

Pattertwig turned and approached Reepicheep at a dogtrot upon the Hoofalope, 'Good morning Sir Reep! By the Mane! You don't look like a happy camper!' chortled Pattertwig. Reepicheep was not a bit happy, he barely looked at Pattertwig as he sheathed his sword and adjusted his red plume.

Pattertwig then dismounted from the Hoofalope and knelt humbly on one knee before Reepicheep saying, 'Your valiant steed, Sir Reepicheep!'

Reepicheep thought of their journey ahead to the Stone Table and eagerness rose within him to get on their way, though he was not nearly as eager as Pattertwig it would seem.

Reepicheep didn't think twice about it. He hopped upon the Hoofalope and soon Pattertwig climbed up and perched behind him. Reepicheep hadn't so much as an idea of how to ride a warhare never mind the Hoofalope. But that didn't matter much because he soon found that the Hoofalope had a mind of its own and they were soon making their way in the right direction.

Pattertwig shouted his farewells up at the gaping hole in the tree to Moowood but he never shouted back, he was probably too busy catching up on his recordings.

Before they knew it they were beneath the tangling boughs of the trees again, riding back in the direction that they had come, moving swiftly through the forest.

In and out of the trees the Hoofalope darted, for there are no clear paths even in Narnian forests where the trees grow as wildly as in any wilderness. None the less, the nimble creature was light of foot and covered the ground faster than any steed or centaur, and most definitely a wolf as Reepicheep particularly noticed.

In fact, Reepicheep noticed that it was nothing like riding upon a wolf, and nothing like riding a warehare as Pattertwig had already figured out earlier that morning. Unfortunately I cannot say myself what its like to ride a horse, or a centaur for that matter, because I have never had such a privilege, so I cannot compare to that without sounding a fool, but I do imagine that it was much different riding a Hoofalope than riding either one of those as well, especially to a Narnian mouse and a squirrel.

They felt so safe upon the Hoofalope's back that they felt no need to hold on, it was as though the Hoofalope balanced them on it's back as it deftly bore them through the woods, faster and faster as though being carried by the wind, unhindered by large rocks, bushes or fallen trunks which were effortlessly bounded over.

They came to the place where the Lampost stood and in the same moment that they saw it standing far off on in the woods in front of them it was in the distance behind them before they could blink twice. It was then Reepicheep realised that he could not stop the creature even if he wanted to. He thought, if this creature could tread on water it could sweep them off to the very edge of Narnia and there would be not a single thing that they could do to stop it.

His fears were answered soon enough, the thick woods thinned out into tree scattered dells and at the bottom of them they came to a choppy lake.

The Hoofalope leapt headlong over the pebbly shore as Pattertwig whooped and laughed, and they came down onto the face of the lake. It was both a great relief and a shock that they did not plunge into the cold, murky water. The Hoofalope bounded, skipped and zigzagged across the lake surface like a wild deer hopping from puddle to puddle in a waterlogged field after a heavy downpour.

Ducks on the lake fluttered here and there as their important morning meeting was disturbed by the passing company.

They were swiftly coming upon the far banks of the lake and they spied motes of smoke rising from the woods ahead of them. Then, they where very sure they knew from where the smoke was coming from, Bunter Beaver's lodge of course! For there was the little inlet at the foot of the trees and between them the narrow stream wended right up to Bunter's doorstep.

Actually, that little stream was the only clear path through that part of the forest so that is where they went, because if you remember, that whole part of the wood was now overgrown by grapevines by some magic of the woodpeople.

The Hoofalope bore them in its puddle-hopping way right up the stream and into sight of the Bunter's lodge where he and his beaver family lived. It looked as though Bunter had been a busy beaver indeed, because his home was now in perfect condition. Reepicheep and Pattertwig guessed it would probably take him the better half of the year to mend the damage that the gryphon inflicted on his lodge so they were quite impressed to see it in top nick again and so soon.

They never saw the beavers at that time in the morning of course. No more morning swims to scour the lake bed for gold for Bunter Beaver! He was snug inside his lodge in his bedroom snoozing with Prixy his Beaver wife and Ruddletod in the next room.

The Hoofalope suddenly pounced from the river's surface, bounded off the roof of Bunter Beaver's lodge clearing the thicket of grapevines and then onward they tore through the forest hastily by wending and winding paths, under the trees, around and in and out of their trunks and over and across any rivers flowing across their way. For miles and miles they kept going, and the Hoofalope was a creature never tiring.

When they came to plains of open grassland they moved all the more swiftly, almost at a headlong sprint. Only then did Pattertwig and Reepicheep feel the need to hold on for dear life, and hold on to their plumes upon their heads for fear of losing them to the wind that whooshed past their ears. They felt more like they were flying rather than riding the galloping hare-like beast that they sat upon.

The ground rose up to a high hill and at its crown they caught a glimpse of the distant lands all about them. The view of the high northern mountains was hazy in the morning dew, but the mountain ranges to the south rose up out of the morning mist to scrape the clouds in the southern skies.

The open lands were soon left behind them and fording the next river the Hoofalope came to a steady halt, just as they passed the threshold of the woods. Pattertwig and Reepicheep dismounted, and they watched the Hoofalope as it went back to the river for a drink.

'We have cleared right across the land all in one morning, Pattertwig!' said Reepicheep in excitement, 'The Stone Table should lie just at the other side of these woods.'

Reepicheep turned to find Pattertwig darting up a tree and into the canopy above.

'Just a moment, Sir Reep!' he shouted back to Reepicheep, and in a moment he was back on the floor again with an armful of acorns and crunching contently on them. Reepicheep knew not to ask where he got them (for as you might remember, its a good thing to remember when being polite to a squirrel not to ask whereabouts he keeps his nuts), but guessing that Pattertwig had probably had them stashed away secretly up in one of the trees it was clear that he was familiar with this part of the wood and although still quite a bit away from the Rush River they had made their way back to places they felt more at home.

'And all thanks to our friend the Hoofalope!' said Pattertwig through his mouthful of chewed up acorn, 'I wonder do Hoofalopes like acorns?'

'I could not tell you,' replied Reepicheep, 'but I think we owe the good creature a great deal more than acorns! We would have had a long walk on our own two footpaws to come this far ahead.'

Pattertwig did not like the thought of that and he was all the more thankful for the Hoofalope's favour to them. The noble creature returned from the river looking as fresh as a daisy even after such a hard ride, it looked as if it was ready to do it all over again, but Reepicheep would not hear the like of it,

'You have done us a kind deed bringing us this far and saved us alot of toil, good Hoofalope! Now, we shall not ask for you to bear us again this day. We shall use our own two footpaws that Aslan has blessed us with to make the rest of the way to the Stone Table.'

So a little further east through the woods the company went, the Hoofalope following behind them, until the dense woods opened out to a grassy plain, and their way they made across it too under the afternoon sun. Off in the distance ahead of them the shape of the Stone Table came into view and they covered the ground between them and it at an unhurried march.

It looked strange to Reepicheep, not sitting on top of a hill as it used to, because, as you remember, the hill that it sat upon before had vanished or was destroyed by the evil magic of hags during Granitegale's onslaught on the Stewards of Narnia who held their council around it. It dawned on Reepicheep how vulnerable the ancient landmark now was sitting so exposed in the middle of the empty grass plain.

As they came but a stone's-throw away from it they were stopped in their tracks,

'Halt!' piped an echoing voice, 'In Aslan's name, come not a step further!'

Suddenly, from behind the table sprang twelve mice with arrows fitted to their bowstrings with strings taught. Four where standing on the tabletop and four more on each side of the Stone Table to form a single line formation.

Reepicheep, Pattertwig and the Hoofalope stood with all twelve arrowheads pointing at them and dared not move another inch closer.

'We are the last twelve who guard the Stone Table! Who are you that come marching towards it with weapons and shields as if in war?' demanded one of the mice, and as you might have noticed by now Pattertwig, as Reepicheep's squire, had not quite picked up on the role of introducing themselves to challengers or otherwise strangers on Reepicheep's part, but Reepicheep, being quite down to earth in his ways, was always happy enough to speak for himself and for Pattertwig as well. From that moment on that would not really matter, as you will find out.

'Hail fellow mice! I am Reepicheep and I come with Pattertwig the squirrel all the way back here from the Lantern Waste, with help of the Hoofalope, to seek out again Gladebreeze the stargazer.'

'Alas! You will not find Gladebreeze here, Reepicheep and Pattertwig, for some madness took her and she swam off across the ocean not to be seen for some days now,' said the same mouse, not bothering to ask what a Hoofalope might be so as not to seem ignorant, 'What business do you have with her?'

'That is ill news for us, for we seek her council now that we have found the Horn of the Gentle Queen. By her prophecies it fell into our possession,' replied Reepicheep, 'We come here only because this is that last place I seen her, with grace at her foot and a flock all in her train.'

The twelve mice all lowered their bows and forward came the dormouse who had hailed them. His face was grim, and he stood head and shoulders shorter than Reepicheep. And as he spoke, in a more official and respectable manner, he held his long tail under one arm whilst the other handpaw stroked his whiskers.

'I have a feeling,' said the dormouse, 'that there is more to you than we yet understand, you who come with fey creatures in you presence and do the bidding of the noble race of centaurs,' and indeed, Reepicheep did not look like any ordinary mouse, bearing his shield and sword and red plume upon his head. And with Queen Susan's horn slung about his shoulder no Narnian who had never met him could guess what adventures he had been through. But Reepicheep did leave them guessing, for as you may have noticed he never told them that he was a knight, or much else about them for that matter. His intent was to remain humble, not to give off the idea of superiority over the twelve mice, for their was no telling how they would react at such a claim.

'But you shall know who we are,' continued the dormouse, 'We are the last creatures who stay to protect the Stone Table from those who would seek to harm it. And is it a coincidence that we are all mice? Are we not the bravest and most courageous race of all the Narnians? Haha! This is only another example of our true worth as warriors! When all others flee to their strongholds at the whisper of ominous tidings, we are the ones who stand our ground! You are welcome here Reepicheep! You and your friends! I am Brudderpeep of Shuddering Wood! Let me introduce you to the rest of my comrades and I pray you will stay in our company, for you look a formidable warrior yourself!'

So, Brudderpeep commenced his hardy and boastful introductions of the other eleven mice; 'Gordifleep and Cheerifleep! They are two of the finest swords-mice from south of theArchenRiver! How many eagle's was it now? Ten if I'm not mistaken! TEN eagles have these mice slew between them. Even the hungry eagles ofMountPirefear to test their talons against their blades!'

'There are the three corsairs themselves! Cut-throat Muddelsqueak, Bilge-blood Gubblecheep and the fierce old one himself; Blacktail Hubblepeep! The fiercest sea-mice in Narnia! They once drove a whole tribe of cats off an island to seize their golden treasure, only to be overcome by a dragon that dwelt there, but good fighters all the same make no mistake!'

And as Brudderpeep went on telling about all the mice and their names and boasting of their adventures Reepicheep felt truly honoured to be among them. Although Pattertwig did not believe half of what Brudderpeep said about any of the mice.

He was more interested in what the little dormouse had to tell about other matters. Apparently, there had been many messages exchanged between Granitegale's army in the Western Wilds and the Narnains who stayed behind that part of Narnia. He had been at battle with Men who came from a land named Telmar, beyond the mountains at the edge of the Western Wilds and they were numerous and fierce fighters. Granitgale's army dwindled with heavy losses and many of the Narnians abandoned the battle. He beckoned that those who stayed in Narnia would travel west to his aid, for Granitegale and the rest of the centaurs who fought with him would fight to the end. They were all that remained to oppress the Men of Telmar, and they had done well to drive them back and hold them off at a narrow pass in the mountains.

At news of this many of the Narnians took fear and fled south in search of refuge at Anvard, a stronghold of Men which lay somewhere in the southern lands of Archenland behind the high mountain ranges. Although, there were some that were prepared to fight, not alongside Granitegale, but went to prepare Cair Paravel as a fortress, fortifying its walls and storing it with food to withstand a siege for many months.

Those twelve mice expressed ardently how it was their duty to protect the Stone Table, for being Narnian mice it was the place of the beginnings of their history, whereby serving Aslan when no others were there to aid him in his anguish they earned Aslan's blessings.

They held fast their hopes in Aslan returning to Narnia and they would guard that sacred place with their lives in honour of the Great Lion himself. Reepicheep found new inspiration in the presence of these mice and as he and Pattertwig stayed with them for some days he came to the decision to join their cause.

Never did he tell them of his title of being a knight and Reepicheep released Pattertwig from his service, although Pattertwig had no intention of leaving his friend and remained in his company for a long time after.

A week after their arrival at the Stone Table, Reepicheep took heart in himself once again and stood high upon the tabletop to make a sound declaration, 'My fellow mice! See how The Stone Table has been abandoned by all Narnians, save for ourselves, to any evil that may befall it! Behind ancient walls of stone they go to hide to save themselves from harm, because their fear is greater than their faith in Aslan and pride of being Narnian. Should not this place that we cherish so much as more than our own lives have walls of stone to protect it? We shall make this a strong place where all Narnians may take shelter and in newly built halls Narnians will once more rejoice in the Great Lion's name!'

And before any could ask how this could come about Reepicheep sounded the Horn of the Gentle Queen for a second time and its mighty blast shook the very ground beneath them and all the land trembled from there to the very mountain ranges in the North where giants dwelt and the Men of Telmar cowered as the mountains of the west threw rocks down upon them from their heights.

That night there came many dwarves down from the southern mountains who were woken from their deep tunnels and they stayed in the woods to feast and sing songs by fire and lantern light beneath the stars.

By the time morning came many other Narnians had come to the Stone Table to answer the call of Queen Susan's Horn. There came a gigantic Ettin, whose two heads where ever arguing with one another, but in his great wheel barrow of stone he brought great lumps of granite from the high mountains in the north and smashed them down with his great hammer.

Beavers in great numbers came rolling fallen oaks and pines stripped of their branches and of the sturdiest timber, they had journeyed from all over Narnia by river and through the woods to get there. And also from out of the woods came the great company of dwarves who had feasted there throughout the night. They were equipped with tools of craftsmanship and with strong limbs from digging and heaving rocks about deep inside the mountains where they mined.

Reepicheep lead the twelve mice with Pattertwig and the Hoofalope away from the table to observe what was about to happen. Again there was a magical presence in the air but of the good kind that filled them with a cheerful and wholesome feeling.

The Ettin took his empty wheel barrow and great big hammer and trundled his way back home to the rocky lands in the north, ploughing his way through the forests between him and there.

The beavers also left, leaving behind the bare trunks of the oaks and pines. Then with their axes some of the dwarves set upon the timber with their beards all wagging,

'Chop the trees! Chop them down!

Chop them till they hit the ground!

With your axe let's chop them up!

Swing your axe right down from up!'

Some others picked up their shovels and dug at the earth while the rest took up their pickaxes and went to work on the granite rocks that the Ettin left behind, and there became a great clamour of dwarf songs and chopping and clanging and ringing of metal upon stone,

'Break the stones! Make them crack!

Chip them to bits! With your pickaxe!

Swing it up! And swing it down!

The _PING_of metal! What a glorious sound!'

Of course, anyone who listened to their songs is likely to get the wrong idea about the dwarves work, there was a great deal of skill involved, although none of the mice or Pattertwig could make any sense of what they were doing so after a while they gave up on watching them and left the never-ending racket, going to the woods to wander and practice with swords and bows.

They stayed in the woods that night and they could hear the dwarves still working and singing far off in the night where the place of the Stone Table was lit with flickering firelight. Reepicheep and Brudderpeep were the last two awake and they talked long into the night. By their idle talking Reepicheep found out how the mouse maiden Heathricheep of Dancing Lawn had also left Narnia for she was called upon by the Men of Archenland to care for the gardens in Anvard. His heart sank, because he had hopes of going to see her at Dancing Lawn once again. He thought much about her with a heavy heart before he fell to sleep…


	21. 21 A Long Overdue Ending

**A Long Overdue Ending**

A wonder it is to myself what it is like sleeping right out in the woods at night. I mean, without those four walls of your bedroom to assure you that there is a roof above your head, and that there is only one way in and out by the bedroom door. There are certainly no walls to protect you lying down to sleep in the woods. Say that there is the campfire burning brightly, and with your twelve mice friends and a squirrel and a Hoofalope there for your comfort and assurance that you are not alone, even then what is to stop someone or something from pouncing from out of the darkness upon you? How could one find peace to sleep with thoughts like that on their mind?

Reepicheep and his company had no such thoughts, quite obviously, because they slept soundly right until the break of dawn, and the darkness of night ebbed away as the forest flooded with light. What a relief that would be when morning came! No more reason to suspect lurking creatures in the darkness ready to pounce upon you as soon you let your guard down!

The light of morning revealed that Reepicheep and his company had set their camp in the middle of a little lane that ran through the woods, although where they were seemed quite sheltered with thick foliage and bushes. They were all still sleeping when from off in the distance of the woods there came a faun playing merrily on his fiddle.

The lane winded right up to the camp of the mice and the faun's fiddling got louder as he neared their camp and the mice were all well roused from their sleep. Out from behind a gorse bush the fiddling faun appeared and he foundered at the sight of the company in the middle of the lane. And so great was his fright that he tripped and dropped his fiddle and smashed it on the floor!

The mice stood still and his face turned white, the poor faun's head was in a spin! He ran off weeping and the company stood looking at the violin's sad remains.

'By the Mane! Strange things happen in these woods!' cried Gordifleep, 'Let us take our leave of this place, Brudderpeep!'

'There are indeed many strange happenings at hand!' announced Brudderpeep, 'I call on you, Reepicheep. What should our next action be in such strange times?'

Reepicheep could think of nothing else other than getting back to the Stone Table, and shared with the rest of the company the same curiosity about the silence of the dwarves singing and sounds of their toil that sounded for far about the night before, 'Let us go back to the Stone Table at once! I do not trust dwarves enough to leave them unwatched in that place for another moment!'

Immediately Reepicheep lead them from out of the woods and back in the direction of the Stone Table again. They were quite puzzled as to what they found there,

'What have those dwarves done with The Stone Table?' exclaimed Cheerifleep, 'It would appear that they have tried to bury it under that great hill over yonder!'

'That is one mistake we shall not make again!' said Gordifleep, 'We shouldn't have left dwarves to do a job that mice could have done! Walls of stone indeed!'

And indeed it did seem that way, because there was now a great mound of earth where the Stone Table once was, high and steep like a gigantic molehill, but on approaching it closer they discovered a stone framed entrance. They went eagerly past the dark threshold and along a stone-paved corridor to find at the end of that the true splendour of the work of the dwarves and all the mice were glad.

The Stone Table centred a shadowy, torch-lit hall. It's floors, walls and slender pillars were of stone and every little noise sent echoes fleeting about to every dark corner.

'Hail Aslan!' cried Brudderpeep, his voice ringing about the hall 'Let all good Narnians who enter this hall fall under his protection!'

On the rest of their exploration of the place they found that many tunnels delved deep beneath the hall of stone. Some of them were dark and endless but others lead right into the depths of the woods as secret entrances.

News quickly spread about this new stronghold and in the following days it was the talk of all the creatures left in Narnia. They went to witness the stone hall and look upon the Stone Table. Reepicheep and Brudderpeep welcomed them and all who went there abandoned all of their fears in the newfound hope in the predictions of the mice of the coming of Aslan.

Many dozens of mice joined the cause of the first twelve in protecting the Stone Table for as long as they lived or until Aslan had finally returned to Narnia. They became skilled with their swords learning from Reepicheep himself and were highly revered in those days of Narnia. They were days of peace, but they were no fools knowing that like all good things it would come to an end at some point, so the mice did not neglect their vigilance. They befriended the most unlikely of the birds; the ravens. Old Raven himself sent scouts to watch the borders of Narnia and every night they would report to Reepicheep at Aslan's How (that was the name that the Narnians came to call the great mound) but months went by without much to report and then the years began to pass them by as easily as the months, but such times Reepicheep could never have imagined.

There were nights especially memorable to Reepicheep. Only on nights when the moon was full did the Narnians meet in the stone hall of Aslan's How for a grant feast. Lunetail and the Waterfall Pack would be there then in would come the White Stag to storm the stone hall and out under the moon a great chase would begin, but rarely did anyone ever catch the White Stag with a belly full of food, thanks to the cooking of the Beavers.

Bunter Beaver would praise his wife Prixy for her cooking the most out of all the beavers, and only Aslan knows what quarrels would begin between them if he had show preference to any other beavers cooking, but fortunately that was not the case.

Formal invitations were sent every week before the feast began to Moonwood the hare, but not even for that would he leave his home in the west of Narnia. He truly was a dedicated and hardworking creature.

Gumblefeather and Lunaplume would also be there to show their faces, but seeing that moths or bats were not on the menu of the Beaver's cook books they had to eat their fill before they arrived.

In fact the only Narnian's who did not attend the feasts were those who abided in Cair Paravel at that time. Shivel had gained himself very high stature among the Narnians who lived there. He was an ape, and a very intelligent and scheming one at that. He had great ideas when it came to making Cair Paravel into an impenetrable fortress but now that that had been done he had somehow convinced all the Narnians that had done all the donkey work during the building that they could not have achieved anything without him and that they only had him to thank for their safe place to live.

No doubt it was a safe place to live, but Shivel did a magnificent job of exaggerating the dangers outside Cair Paravel's walls that the Narnians inside it were simply too petrified to leave the place at all. Shivel was treated almost like royalty. He had all he needed in Cair Paravel so why should he go to Aslan's How when he could have his own feast in his own halls? Which is what he began to do of course, but his feasts were nowhere near the likes of the ones held in Aslan's How. He did not enjoy music or merrymaking while he was eating, so everyone else had to follow his example. They truly were very cheerless events.

Peace reigned in Narnia for many years and Reepicheep and his friends lived contently as protectors of the Stone Table in this way. But as time went on Reepicheep and Pattertwig bore witness to troubling things. They watched their friends grow old and weary of training as warriors. All around them they saw their Narnian comrades wizen under the toll of time; yet Pattertwig and Reepicheep would never age a day.

They were deeply saddened as they watched their closest friends wither and eventually pass from the world, and only now realising the significance of that night when they drank the light of the Lamppost from Queen Susan's Horn, they cursed the gift of longevity that fell unto them by doing so.

Now Reepicheep, and sometimes Pattertwig, often sent letters to Anvard concerning the welfare of the Narnains that went there, but both of them had their own reasons for sending them too. Pattertwig had not forgotten about is friend Thistlefur the warhare, and he was always glad to hear how life was in Anvard for her. Reepicheep, on the other hand, cared greatly to hear of how Heathricheep fared, the Mousemaid of Anvard's Gardens, but in Reepicheep's heart he always knew her as the Flower Nurse of Dancing Lawn. Since she left Dancing Lawn there never grew another flower upon that green clearing, and since Reeicheep last saw her there was an emptiness within him too, but as to what he felt he did not know of the word to put on it. In his last letter he wrote personally to Heathricheep:

_Dear Heathricheep,_

_As one treads through the place of Dancing Lawn,_

_There is one who's laughter is sorely missed._

_Without the Flower Nurse the lawn has no flowers upon,_

_And you have left one mouse's heart in distress._

_Come back to the forests you once called home,_

_And under the full moon we shall dance again,_

_For I cannot leave Narnia until Aslan to us comes,_

_Even now without my knighthood to claim._

_Yours Truly,_

_Reepicheep_

And with the passing of three sunrises Heathricheep's return came to him by a swift messenger, and it was with the scent of sweet flowers in the spring,

_Dear Reepicheep,_

_I loathed to leave Narnia's fair Dancing Lawn,_

_That is true as any mouse's word,_

_But to the gardens of Anvard my desire has gone,_

_A paradise for all growing things in the world!_

_In the gardens of Anvard we can dance again,_

_Under moon with music of the lawnbabes._

_Lay down your sword, by the Lion's Mane!_

_The are no battles left for mice with Narnian blade!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Heathricheep_

And with that letter it seemed that there was no chance of seeing her again, because Reepicheep was even more adamant to stay in Narnia than she was to stay in Anvard, but his sorrow was heavy on him as he was sure, after a time, that the same fate befell her as that of his old friends, and after that Reepicheep, more than Pattertwig, became all too accustomed to heartbreak. But with the loss of companions there also came new ones as the young Narnians grew up strong to match the skill of their predecessors.

But also like their predecessors they aged with the passing of time, and Reepicheep and Pattertwig remained as youthful as the day that they drank from Queen Susan's Horn. The pure light of the Lamppost flowed through them and for many generations they upheld the tradition that once started with the first twelve protectors of the Stone Table. And the Hoofalope, being the incomprehensible creature that it was, lived long with Reepicheep and Pattertwig as well.

Now Pattertwig, after grieving for his dear friend Brudderpeep, had long departed from Aslan's How and made his home in the southern forests of Narnia again, often roaming about them, taking responsibility for looking after the Narnains who all lived within those woods. And often he could be heard singing songs of beavers as he rowed along theRushRiverin a little logboat.

There was no foreseeing the day that the Men from Telmar would come out of the west and into Narnia, but Reepicheep never doubted that the day would soon be upon them, and he would be ready to oppose them when they did.

Although warning did not come all at once, when from out of the foreboding and silent Western Wilds, and down to the lower lands of the western border of Narnia, there came galloping and thundering through the woods like a tempest two of the noblest creatures that Narnia had not seen for countless years now. It was two centaurs, the last two in fact of Granitegale's army; a mighty warrior with hair and beard as black as night. He held in his right hand a sword with a golden hilt and he bore a silver shield where across it ramped a red lion. And the other was a maiden, carrying a wonderful yew bow and a quiver full of arrows.

Swiftly they cleared the breadth of the land, and came before the high stone walls and towering gates of Cair Paravel. Shivel, the Lord of Cair Paravel and descendant of Shivel, the first ape to claim ownership of the fortress and took his name after him, happened to be gazing out over the eastern seas from the high parapets on that afternoon that the two centaurs arrived to his gates.

He looked upon them with fear as they stood before his walls, for nobody in Cair Paravel at that time had ever seen a centaur before, they were thought to have long passed from existence. And the centaur with the black beard beckoned to the ape to open their gates unto them in his deep and noble voice which the ape had not the heart to deny.

Shivel took them into his halls and a fine feast was prepared for them. Dinner with a centaur is a grand deal indeed, because it takes a lot of feeding to fill their two stomachs, as you may have heard before. Shivel had quite forgotten this about centaurs and was in dismay as he watched them clear the table completely of food; he had quite hoped that their would be enough for his secret evening helpings that he would pursue in the kitchen by himself when his sleep eluded him; his hopes for that seemed dim now.

The centaurs spoke of the many battles with the Men of Telmar that had lasted for countless years in the mountain pass at the far edge of the Western Wilds. And they and Granitgale himself were that last three who stood able and willing to fight against them, but at last Granitegale fell in a final charge against them and with him any hope of victory that was left died with him. With his final words he cursed them and named them Telmarines.

They warned Shivel that the Telmarines would follow their tracks and would soon be upon them, but then Shivel blew up in a rage. He was not pleased with the centaurs eating all of his food, he felt cheated by that, and he was even less pleased at the centaur's tidings because he deemed them as lies, and some part of a plot to strike fear into the hearts of the Narnians within his walls.

Their weapons were seized and put in a secret place and in the jail they were locked beneath Shivel's fortress where none could hear their voices. Therefore there was no warning for Reepicheep when the Telmarines did come, and come in the hundreds they did three days later. The days of peace for the Narnians had ended.

They had tracked the centaurs right to the gates of Cair Paravel and they lined up their large army in front of its gates, bringing forth a great battering ram manned by many men. It was made from the trunk of the biggest tree in Narnia, and on it there was little green door with a dent in it, and a brand new looking glass window. If you have not guessed from that, it was the tree that Moonwood had lived in, and only Aslan knows whatever became of poor Moonwood himself when the Telmarines came to his home!

The gates were demolished and the Telmarines flooded throughout Cair Paravel, killing everything that moved. The Narnains were not prepared for such a thing to happen after so long a time of peace.

They pulled down the walls of stone and obliterated the fine masonry of the buildings and burned everything else to the ground. Only when night fell did the Narnain's of Aslan's How descry the violent flames towards the eastern shores. It was a full moon and a great many were gathered there with Reepicheep for the feast.

Taking up their arms they went out into the depths of night and hastily to the aid of those at Cair Paravel, too late though they were. But more swiftly did Reepicheep ride forth upon the Hoofalope, and he came upon the Telmarine army unawares. Some dozens of the men fell to Reepicheep's blade on the plains before the burning fortress, but his strength was spent as he took a heavy blow on his shield and fell hard upon the ground and he knew no more of that night.

Many of the other mice followed Reepicheep's example and charged boldly upon the Telmarines under the cover of darkness. Although Reepicheep was brought safely back to the stone halls of Aslan's How by his comrades after a wise retreat, while some never made it back at all, including the Hoofalope, so that after Reepicheep recovered from his injuries sadness fell upon for the dear losses of friends from the battle, so much so that he saw the losing of Queen Susan's Horn to Telmarine possession as little loss. DWARVES

Many of the Narnian's were now truly fearful in the days to come with the arrival of this new enemy. It was by good fortune that the Telmarines never discovered Aslan's How in that time, or at least its true purpose, seeing it as only a strange or eerie hill in the middle of the grassy plain, so it provided for the Narnian's a haven more than anything.

Ever after, they did not engage the Telmarines in outright battles (if they could help it) in the later years of the Telmarine residence in Narnia, for they had come to build settlements for their people, the majority of which to the west of Narnia. And with the naming of their own king they built a great castle and claimed Narnia as their own kingdom. Although there where some dwarves daring enough to venture openly seen in the Telmarine towns and villages, and they became valued members of their society for their magnificent smithery work which no man could outdo.

Great hunting parties would be sent into the woods by the Telmarines quite often, and they would hunt down the talking beasts as they rode upon horses and sent after them their loyal hounds. But the hunters were harried also by Reepicheep and his fellowship and many a Telmarine hunter would never return home again.

This did nothing but irritate the Telmarine king, for his concern was not of the welfare of his loyal men but mainly of the filling of his own royal larders. He decreed that he would finally rid Narnia of all the talking beasts who attacked his men and so he made war upon the very Narnian forests themselves.

His army burned and hacked their way south, then eastward toward the sea; the trees and their spirits never knew such anguish since the very dawn of their creation. And all talking beasts fled before them. Pattertwig assembled warriors in small numbers to resist them but they were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Telmarines. Only with the help of Reepicheep and his host of elite warriors could they make a stand against the Telmarines.

The desolation of the forests at the hands of the Telmarine army reached all the way to a southernmost river in the shadow of the mountains, and it was there that the Narnians made their stand. As they forded that river they were cut down by the Narnians and hailed upon with arrows before they could reach the other side of its banks, and for a time the fight looked well for Reepicheep and Pattertwig's comrades but the Telmarines had found another crossing further upstream to them and had came around to flank the host of Reepicheep and Pattertwig's warriors. It was then that the trees sprang to life. They tangled the Telmarine men with their roots from the earth and closed themselves around them. The Telmaries took such fear that they all dropped their weapons and fled for their lives. The Nyads and Dryads of the forest became so fearsome in their wrath after the deeds of the Telmaries that they thought them demons and sinister spirits. So from the forest the Telmarines were chased, and in their wake all the trees that they had cruelly slew before sprouted to life once more and the forests were thicker in later days than ever they had been, all of the eastern and southern part of Narnia became verdant and thick with elusive forests. Never did any of the Telmaries dare to go by those wooded lands again, save for the very boldest of them. Therefore, the Narnians that remained lived for a long while in harmony, without being hunted and pursued by Telmarine men. But as a consequence of this great doing by the Narnian trees and spirits, they became dormant and fell into a long sleep. They no longer talked to each other, or moved by their own will, or danced in the moonlight at night. And so the nightingale's singing at night was always in vain with no dryad awake to sing with him.

The forests were always quiet then for many years. And if you ever found yourself walking alone in the Narnian forests in those times, it would be very lonely indeed. You would not see, nor hear, any talking beasts there, call out to them as you might. They avoided all humans, to avoid being discovered to maintain the peace that they had. And the trees were always silent and still like on a windless day.

But you'll be happy to know that things changed in later times, though it is not up to me to tell you about that, because at this point the ending of Reepicheep's Path of Knighthood is long overdue. There was no sight or sound of him in the depths of the dark and mysterious forests even if you could find Aslan's How without getting lost, I would not like to find out what would happen if you were mistaken as a Telmarine hunter whilst discovering their hiding place…


End file.
